By the time this post goes up, I'll be at the RWA (Romance Writers of America) National Conference.
This year will be a lot different for me than last year. In my very first post on this blog, I talked about how I sold to Kensington Aphrodisia while at conference last year. It was exciting and scary to be the total newbie on the block.
I mean, at the time, I didn't have an agent, had no idea what I was doing, and spent the entire conference running around like a chicken with its head cut off. It was, in a word, in-freaking-sane.
I thought this year would be mellow. Relaxing. Easy-peasy compared to last. Since I wrote this before I left for conference, I'll have to check back in to tell you if I was wrong or not, but looking over my schedule, I'm thinking this is not going to be a relaxing conference.
On Thursday alone, I have--count 'em--five parties or meetings to go to. Chapter meetings, agent meetings, publisher parties, agency parties. It's pretty crazy. Friday morning, I'm holding my critique partner's hand before she pitches, Friday night is another publisher party, Saturday is just...packed solid again.
It's good because it means I've had a successful year--I have places to go and people to see (who would ave ever imagined that? Not me!). It's bad because I'm still doing the headless chicken routine.
This is Crystal Jordan, checking in for the very first time on the Aphrodisia Author blog. I think I'm the newest author to sell to Aphrodisia, and I'm very excited to be here.
On to my tale of wonder. I have to share how I sold to Kensington, because it is hands down the coolest story I have to tell. Here's how it went:
I arrived in Dallas, Texas late Monday for an early Tuesday tourist day before the Romance Writers of America conference began on Wednesday. I sleep in Tuesday morning and am woken by Eden Bradley, a fellow naughty writer, and we discuss what we'll be doing for the day.
A call beeps in. It's not a number I recognize, and I consider not answering. Then I realize it might be one of my online friends that I've never spoken to over the phone...who might be calling from the lobby (Note to self: if the 212 area code pops up on caller ID, it's time to spiral into gleefully panicked hysteria). I tell Eden I'll be right back and click over.
"Hi, this is John Scognamiglio..." My first thought is that's not how I say his name in my head. Mild buzzing in ears. "I'd like to offer for your story..." More buzzing. He wanted to buy my polar bear shape-shifter story. Oh. My. Holy. Jesus.
I babble something incomprehensible before I click back over to Eden and start screaming and jumping up and down on the hotel bed. I apologize to the Hyatt Hotel...I don't think I did any real damage to the mattress. Eden cries and I call everyone who's ever met me.
There's a certain life that comes with being an author. Certain sacrifices of time and energy that go into writing a book. So to sell to Kensington while surrounded by a bunch of people who understand what I do on a daily basis was simply priceless.
Then I had to find an agent and run around conference subtly stalking every agent I'm interested in. (Also, my friends dragged me out and bought me my first tattoo and then to a tranny karaoke bar).
Two weeks after I got home I have an awesome, fabulous agent and now I'm looking at a whole new career. It's wild and crazy, but I'm really excited. Here's hoping for a bunch more tales of wonder to relay to everyone.
