Grace Cathedral

Yes! I am going to dish upon "The Lost Hour" situation that occurred last night! Stop texting me and sending me emails already!!! It's got to percolate! AND I am trying to get my wingman in this situation to write his side of the story so y'all can get a complete picture of our adventure/kidnapping.

But until that story is fully fleshed out, I got another one for you!

I knew the stars were aligned for me to come to this conference as soon as I saw that I had the whole weekend off and when I saw it was going to take place at a pivotal setting in my novel. I had a feeling that synchronicity and serendipity were going to be a huge part of this weekend. I wasn't wrong. But it is outright CRAZY some of the shit that has happened.

So today at the keynote luncheon, I am happily chatting with Wingman, Rachel and Mike about "The Lost Hour" when our waiter comes to our table. He is not a happy character. First of all...he was imposing, bearish in both stature and attitude. It was obvious that he was annoyed by the lot of our conference attendees...I am figuring as a whole we are a rude and demanding and egotistical and pompous bunch. In any case, he wasn't having any of our shit and it showed in his aura.

So of course, I went out of my way to be kind, and say please and thank you, and try to make his experience more pleasant. It worked. Over the course of lunch he softened up and became more amiable.

But here is the weird part.

At the end of lunch, as I am leaving the table, he stops me and starts downloading a treasure trove of information about the hotel, the Pacific-Union Club across the street, and Grace Cathedral. He tells me that it is no coincidence that Obama was here and explains his Mason status. He tells me about the tunnel I suspect runs beneath the streets up here and why the street is named Bush. Then he calls his fellow waiter over who has worked at the hotel for 30 or something years, who tells me about Bohemian Grove! 

All the stuff of Dream Walker and the Saga that is to come!

Out of the blue — not knowing a damn thing about me except that I was polite.

"Do you know what I write?" I asked.

"No," he said. "But you looked like you'd be interested..." Or something along those lines.

Really??????

I gave him my card.

Hopefully, I will run into him later so I can get more goods. (Or if you find my blog you'll get in touch!) It was fascinating.

And freakin' WEIRD as hell!

∞

On a completely different subject, I am going to submit a suggestion to the conference advisory committee. 

It would be extremely helpful to be if they had a classification system for the kind of writer personalities that are here. Wingman and I narrowed it down to 3 types. There are the "deer in the headlight" types, who seem to wander in a daze, the way-serious literary types, and the cynical, we-don't-give-a-f*@k types. 

Gee. Which one am I do you think?

We decided there needs to be a series of 5 questions that every attendee should be asked that would herd them into their proper category. Wingman says it needs to be a Skyped interview. 

First question isn't really a question. The interviewer just says the f-word.

If the attendee laughs, they are automatically in group A. Depending on the degree of their flinching puts them into one of the other groups.

Another question might be: Are you coming to conference to learn to write better, to learn about the business, to pitch agents or drink and get laid?

Actually, we may only need those two questions. That would be enough for me to find my peeps fast!

It's just a thought. 

∞

All kidding aside, EVERYONE I have met is fun and fascinating! I am exhausted by all the stimulation. So before I head out to dinner, I am going to take a break from the conference and take a nap!

Shannan

Pacific-Union Club

We live in the fiction.