Lest you believe that an author's life is all glitz and glamor, with the occasional period of writing, it's not quite that Hollywood. I'm currently ensconced in a Microtel, an overnight on the way to High Point, NC and StellarCon. It's not that long of a drive from Atlanta to High Point, but I had no desire to get on the road at O'Dark Thirty so I popped up here yesterday afternoon. After a nutritious yet uninspiring dinner at IHOP, I settled in for some writing time. By eleven or so, my brain seized up so I went to bed in my room near the front desk (as requested).
To give you a sense of my night:
11:30 -- curl up in bed
12:15 -- brain finally shuts down
1:00 -- awake to the sounds of a couple (either next door or upstairs) in the throes of sexual congress. She was clearly enjoying herself and wants the world to know it.
1:30 -- someone at the front desk decides to print a report on the World's Noisiest Receipt Printer that goes on a very long time.
1:45 -- blissful oblivion
3:00 -- knocking on a door somewhere nearby until someone finally gets their ass out of bed to answer it.
5:00 -- The Couple fire up for Round #2. This guy must be awesome is all I can say.
5:30 -- Jana crams in her earplugs and goes back to sleep.
While I was awake I did work out a key portion of the Save London From Destruction Scene so maybe there was some good in this after all. Ironically, in the last book Sergeant Keats had to listen to his neighbors at the boarding house in Rotherhithe doing the same thing. I resisted the temptation to pound on the wall and yell, "Give a rest, ya lecherous sod!"
Today I (hopefully) zip in the remaining hour or so to High Point, unpack and GET A NAP. That way I'll be a bit more human at 3 p.m. when the con starts.
I know -- all of this is book fodder. Problem is, some of it I've already used.