Late dinner, alone

I’m at Patsy’s right now, and it’s after 11. If that don’t beat all.

I miss this city. That’s never been something I’d hide. But I miss this city so bad. Thirty minutes ago I put a friend in a cab to hit the LES. I was this close to joining her, but I really can’t do the post-11 partying anymore, and I had the sense to withdraw for the night. So rather than head down to—let’s face it—my favorite Manhattan neighborhood to continue the schmoozing and boozing, I walked north, up 3rd Avenue, back toward the apartment that was so graciously handed over to me for two nights this weekend. On the way, somewhere within the first couple of blocks, I’m sure, I decided that at the first decent-looking pizza joint, I’d stop in and grab a quick slice—“not too hot!”—to eat as I walked. But I didn’t pass anyplace serving slices and open, other than Ray-Bari, and come on; I ain’t buying a slice from any Ray-Bari. So I had given up hope, and was all set to cross over to the west side of 3rd Avenue as I approached 60th Street, when the neon sign of Patsy’s hit me, just in the corner of my eye, and I went inside. How could I resist?

Of course, one of the few true VPN joints in the Midwest, possibly in the whole US, is one of my favorite pizza places in Saint Paul. I’m sure I’ve mentioned them before, and if not, I sure should have. But still; there’s something about a pie from Patsy’s—and, let’s face it, after a couple of highballs (we each must remember J. D. Salinger in our own way), and a long night of meeting not only ENIV and uber-successful Tenner Suzanne Young, but a number of other SCBWI members in various stages of publication and pre-publication—that to me at this moment felt well deserved.

The conference will continue tomorrow. Frankly, I don’t give a damn. I plan to show up in my brown Jack Purcells and a comfortable pair of khakis, knowing full well that this trip to NY has paid off beautifully already.

Did I mention I miss it? Dear Brooklyn, I’m sorry I’m not going to get out there this trip. In May, we’ll hook up in a big way.

Anyway, I'll have more to say on the conference when I get home. I miss my wife and son so much. I'm sure everyone I've met has been thrilled to look at the lo-res photos on my phone.

*This post written at Patsy's, but uploaded in the morning from the main conference room at the Hyatt, Grand Central Terminal.

Big, cold week

It's super cold out again. We had a mini-March of sort for the last seven days or so, but as of yesterday, and certainly as of today if my cold toes are to be trusted, January is back, 110%. Let's all put our heads down against the wind and get through it.

That is, as soon as I get back from New York. I'll grant you, New York isn't much of a respite from winter blues, but it's a little one, if your winter blues are Minnesotan -- especially if while in New York you get to go to the SCBWI Annual Conference! Which of course I do. I'm extra excited (and nervous) this year because I get to meet my inimitable agent, ENIV, and hopefully a handful of Tenners, of which I've met exactly none, at least in person. Online we are not counting for these purposes. Or porpoises. I have a cold and feel very foggy in the head, but I'm sure I mean "purposes" or "porpoises."

I like dolphins.

Yesterday morning, I finally decided to send a finished draft of YA MS the Third to ENIV. I know it's not perfect, so yesterday's decision was about letting it not be perfect, after lying awake night and night and anguishing over every paragraph and plot decision for the past several months. I think it's good. I think it still could use some work, but let's remember that agents and editors (if this book ends up seeing any) are very helpful people when it comes to creating a book. Now, I will look forward to hearing from ENIV and his thoughts on what I've written.

Is it okay to say I know a lot of it is really good?

Now, back to life. Everyone here is sick with a cold; Sam probably picked it up at the Rosedale Mall play area late last week, and has been good enough to share it with myself and my wife since then, by all manner of coughing and sneezing on our faces.