Well, after Janet My Agent’s uproarious panel, I had to hustle: Because I got my slot signiong books so late in the game no one had any of my books here. My publihser, god bless ‘em, shipped a box overnight to me, and I had to worm my way into the bowels of the hotel to locate said box and retrieve it. It was a nightmare I will never speak of, nor will I ever explains these stains on my elbows.
Books in hand, I trooped to the Book Room to put on my salesman hat and convince some of the dealers there to offer them to ungry fans. While there my wife The Duchess spied Lee Child prowling around and rushed after him to get an autograph, which just underscored the difference between me (lugging my own books around like a loser) and Lee Child (elegant and being followed by a camera crew). Screw you, universe.
Then it was off to buy liquor for my 30-on-30 session. Right now I’m taking a quiet moment to gird my loins for that panel (and yes, “girding my loins” does mean “drinking booze”, what of it?). Whew!