Wednesday, March 7, 2007
New York Comic-Con.
When Random House invited me to New York Comic-Con, I had no idea what to expect. Would Yoda teach me the mysterious ways of the force? Would I get run over by an X-Wing? And if so, would Batman come to the rescue?
I took the train from Washington DC to Penn in NYC on Friday morning, then jumped into a cab, told the driver to find my hotel, and sat back as he gassed his taxi through barriers of traffic. After throwing my bags in my room I found another cab, which whisked me off to the convention center, where I met fellow adventurers Brian Davis and Tim Gallant, along with my editor, agent, and publicist (super heroes, all of them). I sat on a panel with several editors and authors and managed, I hope, to refrain from making a complete fool of myself. Following that was a book signing (shout out to Todd Ostrom). I was rather tired, but my body was a coiled spring, nerves screaming at me from all sides.
So I made the only logical decision that someone my age would be expected to make in such a situation, which is to do something illogical: head off to the bars with various Random House villains, followed by a party at The Stoned Crow, and then host a soiree at my hotel room, much of which I slept through. Saturday followed a similar pattern, culminating with a Del Rey dinner at an Irish Pub and a wonderful jazz performance at Smoke, courtesy of the lovely Sara Blackwell.
In the end I did not get run over by an X-Wing. Or, sadly, learn the mysterious ways of the force. But the Con was a blast. With luck I'll be back next year for more!
Drew
When Random House invited me to New York Comic-Con, I had no idea what to expect. Would Yoda teach me the mysterious ways of the force? Would I get run over by an X-Wing? And if so, would Batman come to the rescue?
I took the train from Washington DC to Penn in NYC on Friday morning, then jumped into a cab, told the driver to find my hotel, and sat back as he gassed his taxi through barriers of traffic. After throwing my bags in my room I found another cab, which whisked me off to the convention center, where I met fellow adventurers Brian Davis and Tim Gallant, along with my editor, agent, and publicist (super heroes, all of them). I sat on a panel with several editors and authors and managed, I hope, to refrain from making a complete fool of myself. Following that was a book signing (shout out to Todd Ostrom). I was rather tired, but my body was a coiled spring, nerves screaming at me from all sides.
So I made the only logical decision that someone my age would be expected to make in such a situation, which is to do something illogical: head off to the bars with various Random House villains, followed by a party at The Stoned Crow, and then host a soiree at my hotel room, much of which I slept through. Saturday followed a similar pattern, culminating with a Del Rey dinner at an Irish Pub and a wonderful jazz performance at Smoke, courtesy of the lovely Sara Blackwell.
In the end I did not get run over by an X-Wing. Or, sadly, learn the mysterious ways of the force. But the Con was a blast. With luck I'll be back next year for more!
Drew
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