So it feels like the entire universe is headed to San Francisco for the annual RWA conference. Including some of my Australian buddies. Have I mentioned lately that I love San Francisco? That it is one of my favorite cities in all the world? That I went to my first conference ever there? And more to the point, Chez Panisse is there. Alice Waters is the mother of the local, whole, gourmet foodie movement and I would dearly love to visit one day. Linger.
Alas, a writer must sometimes….well, write. There is a lot on my plate just this moment, and I need to work. With all the other stuff going on this year ( Texas, remember? And New York City, and Santa Barbara, and the Avon walk and all the training for it, and then in three weeks to Australia) there was just no way to squeeze out the time. Not even to see one of my dearest writer friends, who said on the phone, “I can’t believe you aren’t going.” Not even to sit on the beach in SF and remember twelve other versions of myself, sitting there.
Today, I mailed galleys back to Bantam, which means I’ve read through The Lost Recipe one more time. Whatever happens, I really love this book myself, and that’s not such a bad thing. Loving it doesn’t mean I think I’m some fabulouso genius, just that I love the material, the people, the story, and I think some of you will, too. I think you’ll cry, and eat, and want to go have sex with somebody, and cook something beautiful, maybe some pomegranante baklava (oh this recipe! You will love it!) and adopt a dog.
Also, to occupy myself today, I found a cool B&B in the Rocks area of Sydney, upon the recommendation of a man who played the didgereedo a week or two ago at Unity. I am seriously, seriously looking forward to the Australia sojurn and will post more soon.
But tonight, I’m eating worms. Wish I was headed west in the morning, to San Francisco and RWA and all the glamour and pleaure of it all. Have fun everybody!
Anyone else staying home?