Ah, temptation. Chocolate? Sex? Just one more tiny, thin mint? No, I'm talking books here - books and the people who write them.Saturday, Garth and I head for Vancouver to market our wares at a big conference and will be in the Great Northwest through next Thursday. I've never been to Vancouver, so I'm overly excited about the opportunity to play tourist when not on the conference exhibit floor or in committee meetings.
Yesterday, Garth discovered that the Vancouver Writer and Readers Festival runs through Sunday (Oct. 23), so we're busily checking out which sessions have tickets available. The list of authors who are in Vancouver include: Margaret Atwood, Julian Barnes, Alice Munro, Ali Smith, Simon Winchester, Tim Winton and many, many others. Alas, we'll miss most of them, but Simon Winchester (I love this guy! The Professor and The Madman, The Meaning of Everything, Krakatoa . . .) is speaking on Saturday afternoon at 2. My plane is scheduled to land at 12:15pm - whad'ya think? If the airline, taxicab, and hotel cooperate, I plan to fly in, dump my stuff at the hotel and hi-tail it to wherever Winchester is holding forth. Will I screw up the karma if I purchase the tix in advance, reckon?
Julian Barnes hits the stage later, but the website says the the event is "at maximum capacity." So is the Afternoon Tea confab on Sunday. Big ol' sad sigh. Still, you never know. We'll turn up hopeful and maybe we'll be able to sweet-talk our way in.
Fingers crossed for outstanding planet alignment . . .
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