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Yesterday morning was a scurry of book-making paperwork and e-mails in order to nail all my mid-week deadlines to the wall (nailed!), but the main event was lunch with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fashionista_35, in town for a whirlwind visit before she, like windrose, abandons Florida for the Left Coast.
(This is all a plot to try and coax me out there, isn't it? Not working; you guys are going to need a pied-a-terre in NYC, anyway.)
Bar Boulud is, as usual, still fabulous -- I had celery root velouté with toasted chestnuts*, and croque m'sieur, with a glass of St Veran, and could not have wanted for anything more. B somehow found room for dessert -- a truly dangerous-looking chocolate thing with pistachio creme. Discussions of industry news, writing projects, cabana boys, and more. Much laughter, and our waiter was charming and attentive. Then I walked B back to her hotel, and found myself a cafe in which to write some more before deciding that health and sanity trumped socializing, and abandoned the KGB reading for home, kittehs, and quiet.
Much to my surprise, I discovered when I got home that, rather than the 600 or so words I thought I'd written in the cafe? I'd put down 900. So the word-total for the day was 1,800 and I took it and was glad.
Still no word from certain people on certain projects Y/N, and at this point the window's closing, so am going to assume No. Gah, I hate it when people say they'll get back to you, absolutely, count on it, and then disappear....
Today -- a balmy 24 degrees and icing on the windows -- is about answering interview questions, sketching-in outlines for forthcoming books, and making cookies. Another 2,000 new words on WiP would be nice, but I'm on schedule and with a sense of where the book's going now, so the stress is a little less....
And I owe you guys a post on an author's view of agency, and another one one debit cards, yea, I know, I know...
*and I now have a reasonable recipe for same. Mmmmm...
fashionista_35, in town for a whirlwind visit before she, like windrose, abandons Florida for the Left Coast.(This is all a plot to try and coax me out there, isn't it? Not working; you guys are going to need a pied-a-terre in NYC, anyway.)
Bar Boulud is, as usual, still fabulous -- I had celery root velouté with toasted chestnuts*, and croque m'sieur, with a glass of St Veran, and could not have wanted for anything more. B somehow found room for dessert -- a truly dangerous-looking chocolate thing with pistachio creme. Discussions of industry news, writing projects, cabana boys, and more. Much laughter, and our waiter was charming and attentive. Then I walked B back to her hotel, and found myself a cafe in which to write some more before deciding that health and sanity trumped socializing, and abandoned the KGB reading for home, kittehs, and quiet.
Much to my surprise, I discovered when I got home that, rather than the 600 or so words I thought I'd written in the cafe? I'd put down 900. So the word-total for the day was 1,800 and I took it and was glad.
Still no word from certain people on certain projects Y/N, and at this point the window's closing, so am going to assume No. Gah, I hate it when people say they'll get back to you, absolutely, count on it, and then disappear....
Today -- a balmy 24 degrees and icing on the windows -- is about answering interview questions, sketching-in outlines for forthcoming books, and making cookies. Another 2,000 new words on WiP would be nice, but I'm on schedule and with a sense of where the book's going now, so the stress is a little less....
And I owe you guys a post on an author's view of agency, and another one one debit cards, yea, I know, I know...
*and I now have a reasonable recipe for same. Mmmmm...
