Back from Romanticon and starting to get back into the swing of life. It seems that many things have happened while I was gone! For example, Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize! Previously, I thought that those prizes were given out to people who had actually done things, but it turns out that if you give enough feel-good speeches and make (but neglect to follow through on) enough promises, you, too, can be the winner of this highly esteemed prize! Exciting times. Hopefully this will convince him to actually follow through once in a while–the man says all the right words, but I’m frustrated with the total lack of progress on just about anything. I was so pumped when the guy I voted for won–I’d like to see him make good (or hell, make progress) on some of the promises that got him elected.
Additionally, people continue to support Roman Polanski, because apparently if you’ve had a tragic life and made a bunch of films of dubious quality, it’s totally cool if you rape thirteen year olds. (And I say rape here first because it was rape and he was convicted of it, and second because a thirteen year old cannot legally have sex–the youngest age of consent in the country is fourteen, and that’s only in Arkansas, Indiana, and Iowa. That means that “sex” with a thirteen year old is always rape.) I continue to be depressed about this.
So, Romanticon. I have to admit that going in, I had serious doubts about the merits of a convention that was by and for the users of a single brand, but I’m pleased to report that I was totally wrong. It was a fantastic idea, and the convention was really successful, in my opinion.
Friday night there was a 60′s-themed party, complete with a dance contest. Because I am a stick in the mud, I do not dance, but I did spend most of the night walking around and taking pictures, which means I can now blackmail everyone I work with. (This is partly a lie.)
Saturday night there was an awards supper, complete with a dance performance by some of our cover models. Both nights ended in the bar, where everyone quite happily drank and chatted until the wee hours of the morning. I got to bed around four both nights, I think, and then got home on Sunday and promptly slept for thirteen hours. Yup, that’s right, I’m a party machine. Two nights of carousing, then I get home and sleep for thirteen hours. Pathetic.
The panels went well, and I got to spend a lot of time talking with authors and readers about what they want out of their books, which was fantastically informative. At some point, I’m going to make a big picture post–there were a lot of really cool people hanging around.
I was going to talk more about this, but I have a bevy of cats snoring on my feet, which makes me think that it’s time for bed.
Cat bevies win!
Can you tell us – what DO your readers want? :-) I like books. And sexiness.
I don’t know if you read Entertainment Weekly, but there was a good Roman Polanski article in it this week – in sum, yes, the man made some great movies but he still drugged and raped a 13 year old and all the people who are supporting him are nearly as gross as he is.