I did not puke, wet my pants with fear or soak through my shirt with flop sweat.
Actually, it went pretty well, considering. I didn’t manage to take my editor’s advice on the panel (which was “Be amusing, dammit”) but I didn’t stammer too much and I, you know, said things. Juliet Blackwell is a hero of the revolution for talking to me as though I was doing something completely normal–that really eased my nervousness. Everyone should go buy her new book.
Afterwards, I had a chance to chat briefly with Betsy Mitchell, my editor, as we walked to the signing. On the way, my buddy Jim came up behind us as said “Mr. Connolly! Mr. Connolly! Would you sign my girlfriend’s breasts?” Betsy laughed, thank Pikachu.
The signing went well, too. (It’s easy to get people to take free books, is all I’m sayin’.)
And the other authors were super-nice. I’m afraid I was a little nervous about the whole thing and didn’t talk all that well, but I survived.
Now I wander around the con until 1:30 when I go the the Lego panel I promised my son I’d attend.
Still not reading blogs and such.