I was at Malice Domestic over the weekend.
Malice is a fan convention, a readers-meets-author convention.
It's not really where you look for craft workshops, or agent meetings.
It's not a place you'd go for a query critique.
As it happened I was chewing on a delicious client for lunch, tasty oh so tasty, when a writer paused, introduced herself and mentioned she read the blog.
Well, I'm always up for a round of Boost My Ego, of course I invited her to sit and tell me how fabulous I was.
(The poor defenseless client took that opportunity to skedaddle; I had to go back to the lobster tail from the menu.)
Writer said "oh, please don't think I'm trying to butter you up; you don't rep what I write."
Blushing furiously, she said no, she wrote suspense.
Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit, I rep suspense, yes I do.
Please tell me about your book I demanded, trying to look fierce in a lobster bib.
Now here Writer Fiends is where things could have gone south in a big damn hurry.
She could have started in on a twenty minute yarn about the book, and not touched on any plot points. She could have sputtered with mortification trying to get a couple words strung together.
She could have fainted dead away.
But no. Oh no.
She had her query with her.
She pulled it from her reticule so I instantly said "give me that!' and seized it from her trembling paw.
And read it.
And of course pulled out a pen and made some notes.
And mentioned something I thought was missing from the query.
We probably discussed it for ten minutes.
There was NO way she could have known I'd be at Malice, or that she'd see me in the Gnawing Room, or that I'd ask about her book.
But she was ready.