My life has been filled with surprises lately–not all welcome ones either, like a sprained ankle.
The ICRS conference this week was the perfect time to launch River North Fiction, Moody Publisher’s new line. We didn’t receive the necessary legal approval to use our logo until late, so tight timing threatened to derail our plans. At the last minute–I mean VERY last minute–we completed our cute press packets and shipped them overnight to the convention hotel with 15 minutes to spare.
I was all set. Flights were made. Check. Hotel reservations made. Check. Last-minute meetings with agents, authors and press contacts made and confirmed. Check and check. Bags packed. Check. One quart-sized ziplock bag filled with travel-sized containers of my favorite lotions, hair products, and cosmetics ready for security. Check, check and double check.
My husband and I kissed goodbye at O’Hare airport and I was officially launched on my trip to Atlanta with every hope for a successful convention.
Or so it would seem.
Unscathed through ticketing and security, I set off for the gate. With time for breakfast, I planned to fly out in the morning, drop my bags at the hotel and arrive on the convention floor in plenty of time to make my first meeting just after lunch. The airline staff announced the boarding for the first set of passengers. They began to assemble at the counter in an organized fashion. And they stood there. Waiting. Without warning the sun dimmed; the skies grew dark; lighting cracked so loudly it was audible over the hum of jet engines; cosmic force winds drove pelting water against the windows. Continue reading / Leave a comment…