Last week, I attended BookExpo America (BEA), which is a huge publishing shindig about which you can read a much more entertaining description here. It was a hoot and a half, let me tell you.
I planned to write some sort of “BEA Recap” post. They’re pretty popular in the blogosphere, and I love reading other people’s summaries of the event. But then I realized 1) I didn’t take a whole lot of pictures; 2) I’m too lazy to go hunt for other people’s pictures; 3) IT’S ALL A HAZY BLUR; and 4) mehhhh I LIKE LISTS. So I wrote a kind-of recap, but I’m not sure it really counts.
THINGS I DID
- got free books!
- attended awesome panels!
- participated in the high-energy Apocalypsies event WHICH ROCKED ALL THE WORLDS EVER
- cried because Lois Lowry made me, she MADE ME
- infested the Javits Center with cockroaches
- diverted my route, on countless occasions, through the booths that had extra padding in their carpets TO SAVE MY BURNING FEET
- met awesome booksellers!
- met awesome bloggers!
- met awesome authors!
- gave swag to REBECCA “THE STEADMEISTER” STEAD (that is the name I gave to her, fondly, in my head, i.e., she does not know so shhh)
- had Thai food for the first time!
- ate too much Thai food
- got caught in the rain with my editor while discussing Hoarders
- participated in an impromptu toast to the late Ray Bradbury with some truly disgusting bourbon (which I downed like a CHAMP! hoo-ahhhh!)
- stood in line
- stood in line
- LINES LINES LINES
- pretty much lost my voice
- met more awesome people!
- SMILED TILL FACE FELL OFF
THINGS I THOUGHT
- “The Internet here is like the cyber-equivalent of flea poop.”
- “How is my book ever going to compete, like at all? THERE ARE SO MANY BOOKS IN THE WORLD.”
- “Did my publicist just hug me in a weird way? What does that mean? Did I somehow annoy my publicist? If I circled back and reassured her that if I did indeed annoy her, I didn’t mean to . . . would that weird her out further?”
- “So-and-so’s hair/dress/body/poise is better than mine. God, WHY AM I SO AWKWARD?”
- “Someone I recognize. THANK GOD. LET ME HUG YOU. Oh, did I just interrupt the conversation you were having? Please, carry on. WHILST I CLING TO YOU.”
- “It’s like, the more people I talk to, the more incoherent I become. Maybe I should just start saying, ‘Hello, you are? My name! Gloogleflorp. Books! Purple giraffe.’ I’m not sure people could tell the difference. God, WHY AM I SO AWKWARD?”
- “I’m so stopping by Duane Reade on the way home to stock up on candy. Or booze. Or BOTH.”
- “I’m sweatinggggg. Can people see how much I’m sweating? I would go to the bathroom to wipe myself down but THERE IS ALWAYS A LINE. GOD.”
- “If I go crawl under that table in the Penguin booth to take a nap, would they judge me? Would they kick me out of the event? Do I care?”
- “[So-and-so authors] on [such-and-such panel] are so pretty/talented/eloquent/[insert complimentary adjective here]. Why can’t I be like that? I wish I could be on a panel.”
- “Food. Food food. Food food food! Food.”
- ” . . . Wait. Why am I not on a panel?! This obviously means I am some sort of failure. Because I am not good enough to be on a panel. Everyone else in the entire world is on panels. Oh god everyone hates me. EVERYONE OBVIOUSLY HATES ME.”
- “Should I give Kristin Cashore a cockroach? Would Kristin Cashore want a pin cockroach or a barrette cockroach? These are sentences I never thought I’d say.”
- “I think I’m going to keep being indifferent toward John Green just out of spite, because everyone likes him so much. Does that make me a bad person?”
- “I bet it’ll end up being like with Harry Potter, when I refused to read them out of spite because they were so popular, and then I gave in, and then my life changed.”
- “Come to think of it, that’s kind of like how I was with cheesecake. The whole thing about cheese and cake being in the same dish offended my sense of order. So then we had denial, denial, spite, denial . . . and then one day, BAM! Cheesecake. And then BAM! Life = changed.”
- “Mmm . . . cheesecake . . . “
- “Would you like a cockroach? Would you like a cockroach? Would you like a cockroach?”
- “The word ‘cockroach’ has officially lost all meaning. So has ‘Cavendish’. So have ALL THE OTHER WORDS.”
- ” . . . I wish I was cooler. How are all these people so cool?”
- “My book feels so small. I feel so small. This is impossible.”
- ” . . . Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”
- “SHUT UP LEGRAND, YOU’RE BEING DUMB.”
- “Hey, it’s that person from Twitter who is in fact real!”
- “I wish unicorns were real.”
- “Wait. That’s silly. They’re totally real.”
- “Must not jump the bones of bloggers who are already excited about my book that’s coming out two years from now. Must not jump the bones of bloggers who are already excited about my book that’s coming out two years from now. Must not . . . aw, screw it. *FLINGS SELF INTO ARMS OF BLOGGERS*”
- “This place would be hella freaky at night.”
- “This place smells like old underpants.”
- “This place needs more cake.”
Did you go to BEA? Did you have fun? Do you like cake? GIVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS.