By the time late Wednesday arrived, starting off the lesbian fiction part of the week for me, I must admit to being a bit distracted. (A tactic that was obviously working to allay my fears about my upcoming readings.)

I spent Wednesday morning walking with Gladys and Anne and met a few Facebook friends and authors on the street. I got a hug from Laurie Selzer (she gives great hugs) who I had really wanted to meet as she seemed so wonderful with animals, but I kept missing her throughout the week. I can see why animals (and people) are drawn to her even in the few minutes I spent in her company.

Gladys and Anne accompanied me to a Bold Strokes panel where we were treated to the humour of Carsen Taite who was moderating the panel of authors which included Andrea Bramhall (a UK author who I was reading with the next day on the GCLS panel), I. Beacham (another UK author), and D. Jackson Leigh. I got to understand the attraction of an unfamiliar accent. Until then, I’d been a bit sceptical when I was told to just talk in an Irish accent and stop worrying about my readings. When I heard D. Jackson Leigh reading in a Southern accent, which was an unusual one for me, I found myself noticing and reacting to the sound of words flowing in honey, transporting me into her setting and meeting her characters.

I rushed over after that panel for the Wiffle Ball game organised by Rachel Spangler. I was nervous as I’d signed up on Facebook because I love any team sport, but had no clue of the structure of the game of baseball and I was going to meet Rachel Spangler and Lynn Ames at the game, authors who seemed to be confident and outgoing (and therefore, slightly intimidating) people from the little interaction I’d had with them on Facebook.

The Wiffle Ball Gang

I spent the first half of the game hanging out in outfield (that’s a term, right..?) and didn’t touch the ball once. When I got up to bat, I was encouraged by the patience of the others and I actually played well. Apart from almost taking the windscreen out of a passing car. I love the expression on Rachel’s son, Jackson, as he watches the ball hurtle towards the poor innocent car (the kid is already a great baseball player, he’s one to watch).

Jackson’s reaction to my batting

The two authors I’d been nervous about meeting turned out to be damn good at Wiffle ball, but what stuck with me was how grounded they were, how warm and friendly, and how generous with their knowledge and praise, both to Jackson and to the newbie.

I rushed from the Wiffle Ball game to the Sage Inn for the GCLS Meet and Greet. Seeing the room where I would be reading the next day, wandering between the other authors, who seemed so together and calm, I found myself feeling the nerves again. I met Mercedes Lewis who was coordinating the GCLS events. I didn’t find out until later that she had been rushed in at the last-minute and was trying to find her feet as well. She answered my newbie reading questions in between trying to host the Meet and Greet. I was so grateful to meet Kate McLachlan and her partner, also an author, Tonie Chacon McLachlan (who are from an area in Washington State, which by chance is one of the settings for my WIP). They were sweet and reassured me that my accent would be enough to entertain the audience the next day. Kate and I were to read on the same panel the next day along with Andrea Bramhall. I was reading on two panels, one on Thursday that was sponsored by Pam Sloss and the other on Friday, sponsored by Lesfic_Unbound.

Another run to the next venue, a Singles night where I’d promised to meet some of the women. That was a strange experience, but as I was late arriving, I just enjoyed the fact that there were other single women around who had also plucked up the courage to walk in there.

Wednesday night was a quieter night as I rested up for the next morning’s reading, but I think the guy outside the door at the Pied Bar must have been wondering what I was up to, or what I was on, that I was in there three nights in a row, so far. Somehow, it sounds awfully tame to say I was just on a high of the experience of Women’s Week. And I didn’t think he wanted to hear one of the real reasons I was determined to be busy and happy and live in every minute on the 16th October, the anniversary of the day I flew to New York four years before, to watch my mum’s life end when the machine was switched off. That week in October has been a tough time every year since, as her birthday was on 10th October, my 16-year-old dog, Jesse, died that week the year after, and a few days later, my 15-year-old cat, Sukie, died on the morning I was leaving to go to New York for my mum’s first anniversary. My mum would not have approved in the slightest of my activities in PTown, but I needed to find a different way to mark the week and I hope she will excuse the method I used this year as it proved to be one of the best weeks I’ve experienced.

Next, Thursday and my author debut in PTown and being in a comic show