We tend to, as authors, sit in our writers’ caves, faces lit by the glow of a computer screen, while losing track of the world around us. We only know each other by online contact and pen names…somehow vaguely aware that there are living, breathing bodies intertwined with those names and they exist within reasonable proximity to ourselves.
Last night, I decided to shuck the virtual and go with the face-to-face.* I invited several authors I know live in the area over to my place for a post Thanksgiving, “Please, God, no more Turkey potluck.” SG made homemade pizza (steak, spicy sausage/pepperoni and a BBQ Chicken). Round about 4 folks started arriving.
Spent a delightful five hours talking life, editors and cover art. Stephanie Vaughn sat on my sink counter while Lex Valentine lounged against my cabinets discussing “how rough was to rough in the anal sex category.” We all critiqued ZA Maxfield as she whipped up an incredible apple/cranberry/feta cheese salad. AM Riley told us about the crazy cops she met while doing ride-alongs in Las Vegas. Devouring forkful by forkful of a strawberry Boston-Cream pie, Zoe Nichols and the eldest daughters of ZA and Lex argued “Team Edward” or “Team Jacob.” My friend Jeff Huntwell and SG hung out with the TV and watched Kick Ass, occasionally swinging into the conversation.
It was fun, it was low-key and we’ll definitely have to do it again.
*well, yes the actual, hey I'm really doing this haul your butts into MetroHell went out a couple weeks ago.