Sharan here, and here is finally home.� I have one more business trip this year, an Independent Scholars meeting in San Francisco, and then I can stay home until February.� Maybe I'll actually get some writing done.
Cara, I did see you across a crowded room, but couldn't get any closer.� Sorry about your French flu.� Two years ago I came down with a stomach flu in Paris.� Everyone seemed to be getting it so I could have caught it anywhere.� But I remember sitting on the toilet in my apartment with a mixing bowl on my lap because I didn't know where the next attack would come from and thinking,"Here's the famous writer in her glamorous life in Paris."� Sigh. Perhaps I should let people have their illusions.� I only wish my life were as diva-ish as is rumored.
However, Bouchercon was lovely.� I finally met Charles Todd, whom I admire both for his wonderful books and for the fact that he can work with his mother.� I love both my mother and my daughter but I can't see us turning out anything more than a dinner together.
I didn't go to as many things as I should have.� My editor and I are old friends and we hid out to chat about things that have nothing to do with publishing.� There were a number of panels that I missed and wish I had gone to.� I agree that the best thing about the conventions is meeting new people, especially fans.� So many of them have much more interesting careers than mine.
So now I"m back to editing my friend Mary's life of Heloise as Abbess, a work left almost finished when she died.� Her scholarship intimidates me no end, but her syntax is astonishing.� I really believe she thought in Latin and translated word for word into English.�
Sorry, I'm drifting now.� It's awful that it's taken me a week to recover from a convention.� I can't possibly be getting old.� Except for my knees, I'm sure I'm still twenty.
Sharan
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