Book tour: in Washington, D.C.

by Diane

Down in DC now, after an exciting day. Thanks to the kids at Doyle, and the group who came to see me in Haverford; you all made my day! Or possibly my year. Sometimes it’s just a whole lot of fun to be reminded of who I’m writing for. All your questions were sharp and on target: you made me think, which is the best gift anybody can give a writer.

Meanwhile, it’s very strange to get off a plane and find yourself staring at the Washington Monument. Equally strange because, the last time I was here, it was all covered in that blue-lit scaffolding. I look forward to getting better acquainted with this city, but maybe not this trip: right now this is a slightly twitchy place to be, especially since Peter is twitching much harder than I am, and I worry about his concern. I think he’d be happiest if I weren’t here, and he keeps sounding like he’d like to tell me to dig a deep hole and crawl into it. (I seem to remember Kimball Kinnison using similar language to Clarissa MacDougall. Oh well.) It’s not going to happen. I have things to do here: I’ll do them and then move on as scheduled. This is perhaps a pygmy-sized courage, but even a small act of defiance, consciously done, can become an act of heroism. Okay, still a small one. But better than nothing: better than lying down and being rolled over. If I get afraid, I’ll work to use the fear for something useful. Otherwise “they” win…whoever “they” are. And I’m stubborn enough not to want to give “them”, for any value of “them”, the satisfaction.

Right now I’m deciding how to rank this hotel (the L’enfant Plaza) in the increasingly-extensive list of Hotels I Like. This one isn’t quite as nice as the Regency in NY. But on the other hand, the Regency doesn’t put giant bins of Utz pretzel logs on the bar tables. (Maybe this is something I should discuss with them.) I do love pretzels. This is a talent that P. completely lacks. OK: More For Me. (grin)

Also, this is probably a good place to note how much I enjoyed the company of my escort, Alistair, around my various functions in Philly over the last few days. He is a poet, a gentleman and a scholar, and it was Loads-O-Fun running around with him and talking writing, these last few days.

I also much enjoyed the presence of the Kinko’s downstairs in the Philadelphia Marriott: not just because of the broadband Internet access, but because of all the huge five-foot-wide printers I really wanted to steal. There was much cool technology there. A shame I didn’t have a jacket big enough to smuggle some of it out under.

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