~from Ami

I'm sitting in a hotel room in St. Louis, the sound of the television in the next room nearly drowning out my Indigo Girls music, my right shoulder seized up so tight I can hardly lift my arm. Looking at a five and a half hour drive home tomorrow morning, and I'm wondering what Brett and Zack are doing right now.

It's been a wild few weeks since the book came out, with me flying or driving to odd and various places for signings, shows, conferences, and appearances. The adrenaline surges I've sustained have nearly done me in. I normally space my panic attacks out, having one a year at the annual Oklahoma Writers Federation Conference, in which I hyperventilate in the bathroom (third stall from the door in the Embassy Suites' lobby restroom is a personal favorite) at the mere thought of having to make small talk with other writers and editors/agents.

Lately I've spent Monday through Thursday doing laundry and catching up the to-dos of daily life, along with working 9 hour days at DHS, then Friday it's off to who-knows-where! But, woo-hoo, I'm published! I'm finally doing it! I've met so many great people and find my introverted self constantly pushed into new out-of-my-comfort-zone situations, almost on a weekly basis. Midwest MysteryFest in St. Louis was a well-organized, informative convention. It was very hard to hide out in the bathrooms at the community college where the conference was held, because the automatic flushers went off like fireworks every time you moved an inch. So I circulated. I ate lunch with a table of people I didn't know! And made small talk!

My family is behind me 100 percent, but I've missed every football game-where Zack as a junior is percussion section leader. I've not cooked a meal since July. There is a mess of dried fern leaves and decaying geranium petals littering the front porch. There are weeds in the garden the size of small trees.

My cousin Jill and I are off to the Great Manhattan Mystery Conclave next weekend, where I'll spend another few days hawking books like a common carnie and pretending like I'm good at schmoozing. Wonder what the bathrooms are like in Manhattan?