I'm not a fan of bubble tea, but I like the way the tapioca balls bounce around in the juice. Sometimes you can see them, all squished up like fish-eyes in a jug and sometimes they all slosh away toward the other side. Thank God--I so swear, I'll never do two workshops at one time again, even with the whole week off. I've eaten more fast food than I can handle, and I was so jittery it's a wonder energy drinks didn't come out of my pores.
F1 was a success--probably because none of the other presenters noticed what it was about. I've got that whole stealth thing going on, you know? But for some reason this session felt less...joyous than February's Digicon. "That" was a head rush. I did something on short story structure--teach me right for basing a whole workshop on two paragraphs I'd said to someone a month before--which turned into a huge rolling party whereas F1 helped--I hope it helped, at least a little, and if nothing else, did no harm. There's always a downside to the mania.
I launched right into a couple of consulting gigs and--crashed. Whoa. My head hurts. I need some down time, maybe walking around the Mud Mountain dam or checking out that church in Tacoma. I haven't added to my church pictures for awhile. I did a highly personal look at the rest of the symposium before it leaves and there were a couple of things I enjoyed--some I didn't care for, and a couple I shook my head over. I kind of wonder about the woman with a ton of page views and only one interaction. So many lessons. So much information (all clearly organized and laid out. Very nice.). One person ventured in as the sacrificial goat "Go in," I'm sure they whispered. "Check her out."
I still remember the first time I ever went to an RWA conference. I rushed up to one of my favorite authors (bad case of fangirl-itis) and said, "I love your books! They're so cool." And she said, "There there, honey. If you keep trying, one day...you'll be just like me." Damn straight I went home and threw all her books out. I was offering a compliment, I wasn't asking for a pat on the head. Garlic, I think? Maybe the presenter had eaten aioli or something, because it sure chased away the other eighty-six lurkers. Or maybe it's the way the internet doesn't show a smile or a frown, and interprets words based on the way they're written.
Rules 1-10 of presenting a workshop. Check your tone. No one can see your face, they don't know if you're smirking, laughing or sitting around with a bowl of chips in your underwear. It's all about self-editing.
But anyway. Fall is coming. The air is very crisp and it's a good day for molasses cookies. Corn is coming in at the farm stands. I took a wrong turn coming back from I-5 and ended up in the Ortig valley. I'd never driven that road, and after the first startled, "hey! this looks wrong--" spent a little time checking out the mom and pop farms. Corn, pumpkin starts, tomatoes and okra. Big crisp radishes that I can only stand in dip. Flowers. Lots and lots of flowers. I suspect I might need to spend a little time on a bench somewhere, sunning myself before it turns cold.