But the writers' week is, as usual, brilliant. Saw a fantastic bloke speak - a kind of a pohmmy JB - Phillip Kerr. Never read his stuff because its detective gear, but I will now. He can tell a mean story.
After hours is publisher parties, hanging out with their authors and international publishers and trying to remember that I'm an author, and not an agent anymore! Too weird to find myself pitching books to a french publisher when they arejust things I've read and love and nothign in it for me! Old spots that just don't go away.
Had indian with the charming Steven Conte (author of the Zookkeepers War) last night. Haven;t read his book, but then, he hasn't read mine, so we jsut talked about the biz over dinner, and story, and next books. Cool.
However, the exercise regime though it started out with the best intentions, has come to a grinding halt. I walked both ways to the fest yesterday, but on the way back twisted my ankle, and this morningit is up like a baloon and painful, and though I can put pressure on it, I won't be walking too far. Dammit. I was really enjoying the walk.