The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complainsof my gab and my loitering.I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.-Walt Whitman, Song of Myself
But I don’t know, it was kind of a fail for me. I’m not a big yawper. I didn’t have much to yawp about. And I got all lost in the shuffle of a DOZEN THOUSAND people. Nay, not just people. WRITERS. My favorite type of people, except when there are 12,000 of you. Them. Us. Maybe I just felt lost in the biodome/mall where it was held.
My highlights were:
1. seeing my long lost BFF who drove in for a visit of sushi and tapas
2. meeting my editors at Rose Metal Press for my next book and plotting the fall release
3. rooming with my partner in cosmos and crime and plotting all the ways we will transform the literary landscape.