I got my first sale ribbon yesterday.

I had no idea how much it would mean to me until I was holding it in my hand. Peggy was the first one to see it, and now it’s her mission to have me show it to everyone. She has been so wonderful to be with this trip, and I’m very blessed to have gotten to know her better.

The literacy signing last night was just as grand as I remembered from last year. This hotel has more space, so it wasn’t as crowded, and I think there were more authors this year. I got to see Hannah Howell again. She’s always been one of my favorites, so I always have her latest book before conference. I just buy it again to get her autograph. The people waiting for Sherilyn Kenyon and Nora Roberts competed for “longest line.”

While I waited in line with Peggy, I met the nicest ladies. They were there when I showed Peggy the first sale ribbon, and they seemed as excited for me as Peggy. Peggy took our picture, so I thought you’d like to “meet” them too. Manuelita (right) is from Orange County and Isabel (left) is from San Francisco. Isabel said she’d planned to go to this for over a year.

Most of my Indiana chapter sisters met for a drink in The View Lounge on the top floor of our hotel. If you’re at conference and haven’t been there, make the effort one night before you head for home. The view is breathtaking.

We made the trek to the Golden Gate Bridge.

There was quite a bit of fog rolling in off the bay, so we couldn’t see the top of the two towers, but we still had a great time. The picture below gives me proof positive I walked on the bridge. And not just the first couple of feet to say I did. Judith and Peggy marched me out far enough I was past the first of the enormous cables. Despite what my husband will tell you, I didn’t PhotoShop the picture. If I was going to go to that much effort, I would have cut the size of my behind.

Judith and Peggy below the bridge. See how thick the fog was? I tried to take pictures of Alcatraz. We really had a marvelous view of it, but the fog made it too thick for the pictures to come out well.

Someone forgot to tell Judith and Peggy that I should never navigate. I did a great job getting us there. Unfortunately, I wasn’t so clever getting us to Fisherman’s Wharf. We ended up on the east side of town and had to backtrack. Peggy and Judith were very gracious, and we actually ended up having a nice conversation with a young artist from San Francisco. We (finally) made it to the wharf and had a great lunch. Bay shrimp sandwiches on sourdough bread.

I was absolutely blown away by the food stands. We ate at Nick’s Lighthouse — inside the actual restaurant — but there were several of his food stands lining the sidewalk. I’ve never seen so much crab in my whole life.

The conference actually begins today with the literacy signing tonight. I’m really looking forward to seeing all these women whom I so admire.

Oh… the name of the bistro we went to last night was Annabelle’s.

Conference officially begins today.

Nancy and I sat in the lobby just people-watching yesterday before dinner. I was amazed how many faces seemed familiar. Not that I could recall the names, but so many women I met last year were back. Six of us decided to go across the street to have dinner. If any conference attendees have a chance, hit that bistro. (I forgot the name, so I’ll check on that today and add it to tonight’s post.) The food was great. Very Gordon Ramsey-ish. And the waiter was a shameless flirt.

We’ve got plans to hit Fisherman’s Wharf today for lunch. And we still need to see the Golden Gate Bridge. I’ll post some pictures later tonight.

I’m looking forward to the literacy signing tonight. I’ll make sure I take my camera!

I learned today just how much I don’t know about the world.

Judith, Peggy, and I headed to the Haight-Ashbury district. I mean, hey… Gotta see what spawned the Grateful Dead and Charles Manson. Right? It was truly enlightening. I saw my first hookha. (I think that’s how you spell it.) My observation from what I now realize is a limited amount of life experience was that it looked like what the caterpillar was smoking in Alice in Wonderland. It took Judith a good five minutes to stop laughing.

We went into one fascinating store that carried everything I’d ever expect to find in Elton John’s closet. Holy smokes. There were fur bras. No, really. Fur. Bras. And headdresses like Cher used to wear to award shows. Mardi Gras masks. Earrings of every conceivable shape and size. Unfortunately, pictures were forbidden in the store. Alas. I would have loved to share some with you. I have never seen so many creative uses of marijuana leaves. They decorated everything from t-shirts to ashtrays to earrings. And there was tie-dye as far as the eye could see.

San Francisco people are amazing. Whether you’re looking at the natives or the tourists, they are truly a sight to behold. I seldom hear English unless I’m speaking it. Whenever I’ve had someone waiting on me, I’ve watched for nametags. How diverse! Not a Jim or Jane among them.

By the time we got back to the hotel, the RWA contingent had arrived. The line to check in extended all the way around the lobby. The official conference starts tomorrow. Hopefully, I’ll have more adventures to share.

As always, click on the thumbnail pictures to enlarge.

Peggy and me at the famous Haight Ashbury intersection.

Judith and me in front of one of the many murals.

A sitar player on the street.

How about a few pictures from my wanderings yesterday? (Just click on the thumbnail to enlarge.)

This is looking up Stockton Street, one of the most stereotypical rising streets.

Here’s Peggy with the beautiful Bay Bridge and some palm trees as a nice backdrop.

Union Square is a mixture of old and new. The memorial is to veterans of the Spanish-American War.

And for my beloved daughter, here’s Louis Vuitton.

Toto, we’re not in Indiana anymore.

I landed in San Francisco at 12:30 pm – or 9:30 am. I still haven’t figured out the time change. I made it through the flight, avoiding my characteristic nervous breakdown. The lady sitting next to me was so sweet. She chatted with me through both takeoff and landing as if she knew that distracting me would keep me calm. Perhaps she was an angel sent to get me through the flight.

Seeing the bay as we flew in was breathtaking. I didn’t get to see the Golden Gate, but we did have a great view of the Bay Bridge. I felt safe all through the flight, and the pilot touched us down without even a bump. Best flight I can remember. No, I wasn’t afraid at all. Not until I got on the shuttle to go to the hotel.

The man driving the shuttle had a death wish. I was sitting next to a couple on their honeymoon and a physician from San Francisco. We learned quite a bit about each other. We bonded because we were all convinced we were going to die before any of us made our destinations. The driver was trying to check our reservation numbers, talk to his dispatcher, and drink from his bottle of water – all at the same time. Oh, and he was also driving way too fast and not paying a whole lot of attention to the lane markings. I guess he thought they were suggestions, not requirements. I tried to stop hitting the imaginary brake with my right foot and look at the scenery.

San Francisco is beautiful. So different from Indianapolis. The hills are everywhere, and every inch of space is used for houses. The physician lived in a neighborhood that is often used for movie scenes, and we got to see quite a bit of it because he got dropped off first. He said they close the street at least once a month to film some movie. It really did look familiar with the houses each rising a little higher as the hill steepened. I was fascinated with how tightly they were packed.

The Marriott is gorgeous. All of you RWA members coming here will be thrilled. It is, however, bigger than some cities. I’m on the fourth floor, but I think I’m six blocks from the lobby. I went down to get some coffee and got lost in the labyrinth of rooms. Of course there is a Starbucks everywhere you look, so I should be able to find one in the morning.

I was restless when I arrived, and my friend Peggy was still tied up, so I went exploring. St. Patrick’s Church. Yerba Buena Gardens. Union Square. And just to please my daughter, I went to Louis Vuitton and coveted the purses. I was again struck by how different this city is compared to home. No fast food restaurants on every block. No parking lots. There were cars, but most people were traveling by bus or Vespa. There were lines of scooters parked together about every other block. Since it dawned on me that it was well past lunch in “my” time, I grabbed a hotdog from a street vendor, sat at Union Square, and did my favorite thing. I watched people.

Peggy and I finally caught up with each other and headed out to eat a real meal. It was supper for me, lunch for Peggy because she’d already made the time change adjustment. She’d heard of a restaurant by the Bay Bridge that was run by men who had been released from prison, and she asked if I was adventurous. Me? Adventurous? Why not! So off we went on a brisk walk that took us past a bunch of piers, several neighborhoods, AT&T Stadium, and the Bay Bridge. When we hit South Beach, we found the restaurant – Delancy Street. It was closed on Mondays. Sigh. But the walk was great, and Peggy is just like me. She loves to stop and window shop or go in interesting stores. We also saw some very interesting characters – the most unusual being a man who looked fairly well-to-do. He was dressed in a suit and pulling a rolling suitcase and briefcase. The reason we noticed him was because he was shouting obscenities the entire time we followed him, which we did at a distance until he turned another direction when we were about to cross the street to avoid him.

Since the restaurant was closed, we took a different route home to see new things. We finally found ourselves back at a Mexican restaurant about a block from the hotel. We shared some crab and shrimp quesadillas, and when we were ready to leave, I asked for a pop refill in a to-go cup. All they had was a kiddie cup, so I got to head out with a cute little plastic glass with cartoons. Peggy laughed all the way to the hotel. I truly enjoyed her company.

Tomorrow, more of my friends will be here. I’m sure we’ll get into all kinds of mischief.

I’ll keep you posted.

All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go…

Sorry. The middle-aged lady in me has that 70’s song stuck in my head. I’m out the door tomorrow way too damn early to head to San Francisco. I’ve never been to California, so I’m really excited. I figured if I was making the trip that far, I’d give myself a couple of days to sightsee before I have to focus on business.

I don’t fly well. I think it’s a control issue. If I was able to fly the plane, it might not bother me so much. It didn’t help I had a friend die in a plane crash when I was in high school. I’m not sure it’s an out-and-out phobia. (Can you hear my husband laughing from where you are?) Okay, so it is a phobia. But I can deal. I’ve got a window seat, so I’ll stare out of that and call off every recognizable landmark to whichever poor soul is stuck sitting beside me. For those of you of my age and the same cultural references, can you remember the movie Airplane! and what happens every time the main character sits down and talks about his life story? Yeah, that’s probably what will happen to anyone who has to sit by me.

I’m on my own on Monday. My roommate — Golden Heart YA finalist Kay Cassidy — will be in later that day. And the rest of my friends arrive on Tuesday or Wednesday. But Monday is all me. Would it be odd to say I’m hoping to find the Charmed house? On Tuesday, a few of us are planning to walk across the Golden Gate Bridge. 1.6 miles there and 1.6 miles back. When I told my mother about those plans, she didn’t stop laughing for a solid minute. She drove across the Ambassador Bridge between Detroit and Windsor (Canada) with me, so she knows about my bridge phobia. Hence the laughter. Do you suppose I’ll just talk my friends’ heads off and they’ll just toss me over the railing?

I have a few things to finish up before I leave. The house needs a quick clean. Last loads of laundry. All sorts of anxiety to be properly worked up. Because tomorrow…

I’m leaving on a jet plane.

I’m not sure what I did to piss off Mother Nature, but… Geesh. Enough is enough. An earthquake. The flood. And now…

Our birch tree snapped in half during a brief (yet very intense) storm last night. I get to spend this morning looking for someone to cut it down. Hopefully, we can save the tree and just prune it waaaay back. We’ll see.

Actually, I shouldn’t complain. Compared to so many people in and around Johnson County, we’ve had it easy. My heart goes out to the families who lost their homes. So no more griping.

Anyone need some good firewood?

Two weeks until I head to sunny California.

I’m trying to finish The Impetuous Amazon so that I can go to the RWA conference without characters screaming in my head. I plan to take a whole week off from writing so I can enjoy the conference and California without my usual Type A need to log some major word counts every day. I’ll let you know how that goes.

I am, however, taking my trusty laptop. I figured I could upload some pictures and write a little bit about the fun things that happen at conference. You know — a “Nora sighting,” meeting some other well-known authors, fun things I see in San Francisco. I’ll just have to remind myself to blog and answer emails only. No new stories. Yeah, right.

Like I could go a week without writing.

Do I have a story for you!

Since Friday was a holiday, I woke up relieved. I’ve got a few submissions out with publishers, but I’ve yet to hear back from them. I’ve nibbled away my most of my fingernails waiting, and I have a good start on developing that OCD my hubby always jokes about because I constantly check my email. But Friday was a holiday, so I figured I could actually receive email without getting slapped in the face with a rejection. It was safe to leave my email open and just have some fun finishing up the second Amazon book. (Close to finishing it… so close…)

I blast off about a thousand words. Then the email alert pops up. The OCD in me has to go check it. I click on the little icon. The incoming was only spam. No problem. I could use a quick breather before I zip off another thousand words. Maybe I can get a laugh out of someone claiming they can make a certain part of anatomy that I don’t have much, much bigger.

Not spam.

Editor.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

It’s a holiday. I’m not supposed to get a rejection on a holiday. People don’t work on a holiday. Even worse, the “rule” in publishing is that good news comes by phone; bad news by email. So here comes a rejection.

Opened the email. Sat there like some statue.

“Dear Sandy, Thank you for sending your wonderful book, Turning Thirty-Twelve (also, what a great title!) We would love to publish your book at Bookstrand!”

No freakin’ way! My book? The acquisitions editor wants MY book? After taking a moment to absorb the meaning of the words that shouldn’t be sitting there right in front of me, I screamed for Jeff. He comes running downstairs, probably thinking the house is on fire. Due to my continued squealing, Dr. Carter (the Schnauzer) is barking like a cat is loose in the house and Peanut (the cockatiel) is flying around the family room like a hawk is after him. But despite my fears they will simply vanish, the words don’t disappear. Jeff reads the email and says, “Nice.” High compliment from the Old Man. The first thing he wants to do is read the contract. And he calls me OCD?

The editor wants to purchase Turning Thirty-Twelve. Of all the books, I never thought that one would be the first to sell. It’s not a part of any of my series. It’s sarcastic and quirky. It’s never been through my critique group. My online critique partner hasn’t ripped it to shreds. I never entered it in a contest.

On the other hand, Turning Thirty-Twelve is one of my favorites. I wrote it simply to please me, hence the sarcastic and quirky. When it’s published, anyone who knows me and reads it will hear my voice in their head. Jackie (the heroine) is that much like me.

Bookstrand is planning to release the epub version in January, and they’ll have the print version available in June. They also promised my cover would be part of a full page ad in Romantic Times. But do you know what the best part of this whole thing was? The editor called me “wonderful.”

The fourth of July is now officially my favorite holiday.