I've come home from my second writer's conference with hope, and a budget-shrinking number of excellent books. I was quite surprised to be recognized by people I'd only met once, a year ago. It feels good to be able to joke about novel characters, and have one's listeners not only laugh, but truly understand.
On the second day of the conference, by foolishness of my own doing, I managed to lose the binder that held all of the business cards I'd received the previous year. I asked at the hotel front desk and at our group's lost and found, as well as retracing my steps to the mall, though the security guard and his dispatcher said the cards had not turned up there.
God was good, and I could get replacement cards from some of last year's contacts. I was prepared to continue with those, but on Sunday, just before lunch, another group member interrupted my conversation to hand me the binder again, with all the cards inside.
It's time to read, and write reviews.