It is very quiet. The most persistent noise is the sound of highway traffic. The interstate is outside my window, and the tops of passing cars are visible between the green triangle that is Ruby’s Restaurant Country Grill and the many gabled rooth of another hotel . The tops of Bradford pear trees sway madly beneath these fast-moving car tops, and the parking lot lights still glow bright white under a sky that is almost the same gray as the parking lot beneath. The parking lot glistens in places with puddles. It has been raining quite a bit since last night. At one point the water was flowing down my window in tiny rivers, but that was yesterday.

I have made myself at home here and I couldn’t help thinking of my mother as I did. She discouraged unpacking and “moving in” because it was simpler to live out of the suitcase and less likely that we would leave anything behind when we left. Of course she’s right. But I fully unpacked everything in my suitcase and hung it in the armoire—the one that is dark wood, with black plastic inset handles and a slanted top that hopefully has the television well bolted on top. No so easy to steal! Dead ahead of me is a small mirror that thankfully I am avoiding and beneath it a desk and chair where I spent most of last night posting May prompts to my website. I am sitting in my bed, propped against two pillows. It is a lovely king-sized bed with three pillows and I slept like that proverbial brick. Meaning of course that I was heavy with sleep and sat where I was placed when the body eased itself into unconscious repair mode. There is a night stand on either side of my bed, the one closest to me bearing the candles that I forgot to light like I was going to this morning and the other holding a clock that I can’t see and the phone. Beyond that to my right is a bar, it’s undefinable top gleaming in the soft light from the bathroom. My gardenia sparkle candle is in the center of it, with a sink to the left and the coffee maker—Yeah coffee!!—to the right. You can’t see the sofa and coffee table beyond the bar, but you can catch a glimpse of the back left corner of the small table for two as well as an understanding of why the TV is placed where it is.
I feel much like the sky. Heavy. The corners of my eyes prickle, and for a moment this morning I was afraid they were swollen because I have had the corners feel this way when they are swelling with some allergy or something. My head aches. I am torn between getting up and getting my shower done, or taking another few minutes to snooze. I knew trying to get that website done last night was going to leave me feeling this way. I hope the first speaker on the program is a dynamic one and didn’t stay up too late for a buzz session last night.

As I type this a thread of excitement started in my stomach and is starting to move the sluggish blood in my veins. This conference has lived up to its billing. Again. Well, well worth the money to come not only for the restoration of the center of me, but also because of what I learn. Yes some of it is similar to what I’ve heard before. But to be around editors and agents who obviously love their end of the publishing business and who are looking for their next good sale here is really thrilling. There are editors from Atria, Writer’s Digest, The Writer, Random House. Our keynote speaker last night was Eric Maisel, speaking about seven common things that hold writers back, and wow! was that information I’m glad I didn’t miss. William Bernhardt will be doing a workshop today that I’ll attend. Then there’s the regular familiar faces that at one time were just names. Doug Kelley (The Captain’s Wife), Dan Case (Writing for Dollars), and the never miss-able, always lovable Dusty Richards who challenged us all last night to have a book finished by this time next year.

Then there’s tonight’s banquet and my parents and sister are coming to share it with me. Yes, I think I’m ready to motivate now. Who can sleep? But the first thing I’m going to do is fire up that coffee maker….