God, I’m tired.
Yeah, yeah, I know I’ve been complaining about that every since I got here. I can’t help it. The twin overriding, paradoxical feelings I’ve had since Thursday evening have been: Lord, I’m beat AND I don’t want to sleep — I’ll miss something.
So now I’m headed home to catch up on all that sleep.
What a magnificent time. What a terrific, fun show. Yesterday afternoon, I read on the Authors’ Stage, which I enjoyed. In the Q&A session, I was asked about the origins of Boy Toy as well as about my third book. (“Already?” I asked in return. “The second one’s not even out yet!”)
My subsequent signing (second one of the show, for those of you keeping count) was great. We actually ran out of copies of Boy Toy, which is one of those good news/bad news scenarios, of course.
Dinner followed, with Houghton folks Joe Monti, Margaret Raymo, and David Thomas, as well as fellow author Catherine Murdock. The Printz Awards came after that, with Catherine begging off. (I teased her gently about her weak constitution, but God knows a part of me wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel and sleep!)
Still, I’m glad I rallied. The Printz ceremony — much shorter and less formal than the Caldecott/Newbery/Wilder ceremony of the previous night — was a joy. Terrific, erudite, funny, and challenging speeches by the winners. I imagine audio will be online at some point — you owe it to yourself to listen. (Hopefully, there will be video as well, lest you lose half of Gene Yang’s presentation.)
After the ceremony… You guessed it. A reception. More hanging out with new friends. Back to John Green’s hotel to continue the celebration into the wee hours. And perhaps the perfect ending to the evening AND the show — a leisurely cab ride back to my hotel with Houghton Sales God Joe Monti and none other than Markus Zusak.
This has been week like none other in my life. And now I’m going to get caught up on some lost sleep…and get back to work.