I Go On RT's Annual Scavenger Hunt

The Romantic Times convention is many things, among them an excuse to meet readers, see new elevators, see new airports, see new conference rooms, drink chocolate martinis that don't belong to you (take that, Bardsley!), and, of course, go on the instant and continual hunt for boxes of books.

Loads o' boxes. Boxes you mailed over a week ago to a strange city. Boxes that you know are at the hotel. Boxes that are being deliberately kept hidden from you. Every year. Every. Damn. Year.

Now, I'm not blaming the good folk who run the Romantic Times convention about the boxes going missing each year. They actually have no control over what the hotel o' the year does with the benighted things. Although it IS weird...every year...every convention year...St. Louis, Daytona Beach, Houston, Pittsburgh...the only common denominator is The Romantic Times Convention. Different city. Different hotel. Different time zone. Different...well, now I'm waxing paranoic.

Anyway, we checked in, registered, duly admired our gobs of free stuff (it's amazing what the RT gang can jam into a free purple tote), and then went on the hunt for the half dozen boxes that were missing. Translation: I made note of where the emergency exits, and bars, were. JESSICA went on the search for boxes, armed with copies of tracking slips that proved, yes, PROVED, the damned things were here somewhere and never mind the protests of the concierge, who made the mistake of thinking that because Jessica is petite and soft-spoken she must therefore be helpless and easily intimidated.

I had my own theories. I figured some of them had to be under the bar...

Next: I destroy my colleagues in various workshops

I Bring Immaturity and Bitchiness to the Pittsburgh Romantic Times Convention

Ah, RT, finished once again and leaving me feeling like an aircraft carrier parked on my lower spine. Still, great fun was had by (almost) all, and I didn't have to slap hardly anybody (EC Cavemen ).

I've read online about the trouble some people had with the RT or Hilton staff and was, frankly, flabbergasted. My experience (and my P.R. rep's, Jessica) was 100% positive. The hotel staff was beyond courteous and helpful; at one point, Jessica had the General Manager helping her carry her boxes upstairs. Then an RT staffer said, "Just stuff one of your totes so we can see how you want it, and we'll stuff the rest and bring them to where your event is." Three hundred ninety-nine. That's totebags. That we didn't have to stuff. Since it tends to take us two days of stuffing totes until, oh, say 3:57 a.m., two days of snarling and snapping, two days of "remember when you never paid me back that lunch chip I borrowed from you on October 17, 1984? I figured out the interest and it's considerable", our liberation was at first difficult to apprehend.

We're free? What does this mean, free? Free to stuff more totes? Free to not go to bed at all? FREE free? Free as if nothing to do because the RT staff is doing it all?

So I got drunk.

A lot.

(No, I'm not "that" RT goer, the one who was memorably described on a blog as "almost never sober", but don't think I didn't notice that description of my auntie.)

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Jessica and arrived Tuesday, armed with nothing more dangerous than carry-on wheelie bags and the small Zip Locs that held my nasal drops (segregated from the rest of my purse because apparently it's possible to hijack a pilot by threatening to clear his sinuses for him). We were too late for registration, and too frightened to attempt to find boxes. (We knew the boxes were out there...somewhere. Waiting. Biding their time. Lurking just beyond the shadows...I scream, I lunge awake, I sob with relief as it was only a dream...oooh, are those peanut M&Ms?)

We gave into fate's (and RT's) odd plan for us, fled to our room, unpacked, and watched The Mist, followed by Juno. It was awfully swell.

Tomorrow: boxes! Horrible, horrible boxes!

Jennifer Scales is Late

We recently (like, 3 days ago) found that the publication date for the fourth Jennifer Scales book, THE SERAPH OF SORROW, is being pushed back by several months. To put it mildly, we were startled. We posted an excerpt here: http://forums.jenniferscales.com/viewtopic.php?t=118

And the scoop on the publication delay here:
http://forums.jenniferscales.com/viewtopic.php?t=117

So check it out if you're of a mind, and don't hesitate to post any questions.

Next week...Romantic Times convention in Pittsburgh!

I Channel Betsy

I blogged over at Jaye's this week (the subject...what else?...vampires in general and Betsy in particular), and I'm giving away a galley of UNDEAD AND UNWORTHY over there as well. So pop on over and take a peek if you're interested.

http://www.jayewells.com/

Undead and Unworthy Shows Up Early

An interesting turn of events in the last few days...my publishing house, Berkley, moved the publication date for UNDEAD AND UNWORTHY up by a week. So instead of being out in early July, you can get UNWORTHY starting June 24. (Heh...you can get unworthy! Let's all get unworthy! That just never stops amusing me.)

The reason for their decision was both practical (apparently it's better to be out the last week in June as opposed to 4th of July week, when people tend to spend their money on stuff they can blow up...and for the record, I have no objection to UNWORTHY being blasted to smithereens), and sensible (to stop my near-continual whining, "but I don' wanna be published that weeeeeeeeek, pay attention to meeeeeeee!"). But whatever the reason, I'm pretty excited...not only does that move my book tour up, it means I'll get UNWORTHY during the week of my fifteenth wedding anniversary. (Yeah, I'll get unworthy that week, I'm already planning...yeah, I know, I've pretty much beat that joke to death, haven't I?)

My publisher is still figuring out which cities to send me to this year, so if you have any desire for me to set foot on or near your native soil (or wherever you're hanging your hat these days), either post here or e-mail me at maryjanice@comcast.net.

As my publisher is footing the bill, I of course go where they send me ("Hyah! Go to Chicago! Ya, ya! Go left, to Denver! Good girl."). So if your city isn't on the list, please don't assume it's because I have a major hate-on for...I dunno...Des Moines? No, if I had a hate-on for any city, it'd be LaGrange, naturally.

(Heh. Just kidding, LaGrange. You know I love you more than my tan and black Beverly Feldmans. And that's saying something!)

The Family Gets Blindsided

Sorry about the delay in blogging of late; I'm sorry to report that my father-in-law passed away a few days ago. This has been hard on all of us, as you can imagine. I adored him and admired him, not just as the man who raised my husband but as a truly good, thoughtful, and intelligent person. I know; I know, yawn-o-rama...it's much more interesting when a jerk dies. But I can't lie. He really was terrific. And of course my children and husband were even fonder of him. Work--everyone's work--came to a screeching halt as we came from 'round the country to pay our respects, which was only what he deserved. Let me tell you, that church was packed. There was even a dog in attendance. (I don't...I don't know what that means. It was a nice dog, though. Perhaps it was there to settle a bet?)

The really odd thing was, my mother-in-law was the sick one. She was the one we were all worried about. The one we were calling and scolding to take better care of herself. So we were all looking the other way when my father-in-law died. It was the sort of joke he would have liked. He did enjoy proving to his children and in-laws that we still had a few things to learn.

Amen to that, I s'pose.

Undead and Unworthy Book Covers

Here are copies of the Book Covers for Undead and Unworthy.
This is the US version...

and this is the UK version...