On the loose in New York
Of course, there are thousands of writers in New York, but on Tuesday that was thousands plus one little Pacific Northwest girl, all on her own. What a blast! And how amazingly productive twenty-four hours can be.
First, the wonderful Ellen Kushner and Delia Sherman hopped a subway to come and meet me for dinner at a really cool Greek place--not fancy, great food, and of course perfectly lovely conversation.
Second, the writer of MARRYING MOZART, ebullient and friendly Stephanie Cowell, also hopped a subway to meet me for coffee Tuesday morning. We share a fascination with Mozart, and of course we both write about him. Stephanie knows a LOT about this composer, and she is also, like yours truly, a retired singer. We discovered we have a lot in common. Then, like a true New Yorker, she walked with me all the way to West 35th, for my lunch with my agent.
Lunch was wonderful, at a restaurant called Uncle Jack's. Sounds like a steak place, doesn't it? But it's very white-table-cloth and extra waiters. Had lobster bisque and sashimi tuna. Oh, and an encouraging talk about what's to come next in the career of la Marley.
I delivered some page proofs to Ace, and had a nice, quiet meeting with my editor, and then a struggle to get a taxi back uptown. Okay, this was interesting: cab drivers go off shift at 5:00 p.m. I was on Hudson Street, quite far downtown. Four different cabs stopped for me, but when they found out I needed to go back to my hotel on W. 51st, they turned me down! Apparently they thought the ride would keep them working past their shift change! Gee. I guess they don't need the work that much.
But, ultimately, a cabbie carried me back to my hotel for my bags, and then another one got me close to Grand Central, but not all the way. The UN is meeting! New York was hopping busy, cops everywhere. So I schlepped two suitcases and my briefcase up the sidewalk, downstairs into Grand Central, across that stupendous marble lobby, often with help from kindly gentlemen taking pity on a lost-looking refugee from the rainforest. Perspiring and not a little doubtful, I made it on to my train for Connecticut--more help from kind strangers--and here I am. Yes, I know I should travel light, but I needed a whole bunch of stuff for this trip!
The Long Ridge Writers Group orientation begins tonight, and I have some work to do. Thank goodness I have a day to rest!
First, the wonderful Ellen Kushner and Delia Sherman hopped a subway to come and meet me for dinner at a really cool Greek place--not fancy, great food, and of course perfectly lovely conversation.
Second, the writer of MARRYING MOZART, ebullient and friendly Stephanie Cowell, also hopped a subway to meet me for coffee Tuesday morning. We share a fascination with Mozart, and of course we both write about him. Stephanie knows a LOT about this composer, and she is also, like yours truly, a retired singer. We discovered we have a lot in common. Then, like a true New Yorker, she walked with me all the way to West 35th, for my lunch with my agent.
Lunch was wonderful, at a restaurant called Uncle Jack's. Sounds like a steak place, doesn't it? But it's very white-table-cloth and extra waiters. Had lobster bisque and sashimi tuna. Oh, and an encouraging talk about what's to come next in the career of la Marley.
I delivered some page proofs to Ace, and had a nice, quiet meeting with my editor, and then a struggle to get a taxi back uptown. Okay, this was interesting: cab drivers go off shift at 5:00 p.m. I was on Hudson Street, quite far downtown. Four different cabs stopped for me, but when they found out I needed to go back to my hotel on W. 51st, they turned me down! Apparently they thought the ride would keep them working past their shift change! Gee. I guess they don't need the work that much.
But, ultimately, a cabbie carried me back to my hotel for my bags, and then another one got me close to Grand Central, but not all the way. The UN is meeting! New York was hopping busy, cops everywhere. So I schlepped two suitcases and my briefcase up the sidewalk, downstairs into Grand Central, across that stupendous marble lobby, often with help from kindly gentlemen taking pity on a lost-looking refugee from the rainforest. Perspiring and not a little doubtful, I made it on to my train for Connecticut--more help from kind strangers--and here I am. Yes, I know I should travel light, but I needed a whole bunch of stuff for this trip!
The Long Ridge Writers Group orientation begins tonight, and I have some work to do. Thank goodness I have a day to rest!
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