After the Ball is Over

I’m home. 


While I’m happy to be here to hug my beloved and pet my dogs, I’m also sad it’s over.   So many friends, so much to share, laughter and music, angst and elation, excellent food (Junior’s Carrot Cake Cheese Cake is an orgasm on a plate!) and good Scotch, can be both exhilarating and exhausting.

NYC is horrendously noisy, yet it has a heartbeat, a rhythm unique unto itself.  It engenders its own excitement, its own mystique.  Like any large city, it displays both ugliness and beauty, but NY does it with a certain elan, rather like a blowsy old courtesan who still believes herself desirable and, because of that belief, influences others to see her as she sees herself. 

Don’t misunderstand; there are acres of glass and chrome, but they are upstarts, brazen hussies strutting their stuff amid the understated elegance of the more conservative ladies.  Of brick and stone, their jewels cornices of astounding intricacy, these stately matriarchs bear crowns of startling curves and subtle boldness and defy the encroaching modernization of their world.  They are the bastions, the keepers of New York’s heart.

Their magnificience defies even a writer’s vocabulary.

Of necessity, New Yorkers have little concept of personal space and often seem oblivious to what happens around them, yet at the same time, they proved friendly and helpful.  I thought only my one arm, the one under which I tucked my bag, was mottled black and blue from the numerous times people bumped into me.  My sweetheart disabused me of that notion as I prepared to sleep in my own bed.  The mirror confirmed it.  NYC did a number on this old gal; I look like I spent the week wrestling alligators.  Still, I enjoyed my time in the Big Apple. 

I’m blessed in that I’m close enough to go back without difficultly.  I’m cursed in that there is no way known to all of mankind I would willingly drive in that city.  My heart is still in my throat from the last “almost” I witnessed.  Yet I will be going back.  The lure is indefinable, but it’s definitely there.

I’m not going to regale you with all the ins and outs of the conference.  I do hope, if you are interested, you will pop over to the  Ruby-Slippered Sisters site and check out the posts, most with pictures, by the sisters.

There is naught as energizing for a writer as time spent with other writers, people who don’t think having a scene dictated by a fictional character or being awakened and compelled to your desk at 4 a.m is crazy.  The camaraderie, the encouragement, the different perspectives all combine to alleviate the hours of aloneness (I can’t say loneliness because it’s difficult to be lonely when your fictional worlds are as densely populated as ours) our passion requires.

I’m home.  And I’m both happy and sad to be here.  Until next we meet, sweet, wonderful, dear friends, write well.


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12 responses to “After the Ball is Over

  1. Gwenlyn, can’t wait to read it. But fix your link to RubySlipperSisterhood :)))))) Sorry about your poor feet!

  2. It was so nice to meet you, if only for a few brief moments. I hope our paths will cross again in the near future.

    • Amen to that! You know where I can be found. Perhaps on a trip through to see the folks? Who knows. But the door is open. It’s a pleasure knowing you, and I can’t imagine anyone with whom I’d rather share the 2011 experience. Can’t wait to see you in print!

  3. Great post, Gwyn. It was so great to spend time with you. We must get together. I also will be going back to NY. There is too much to enjoy, including Junior’s cheesecake. YUM.

  4. You’re right about that cheesecake. It was great to get to know you in person.

  5. So sorry I missed out, sounds like everyone had a great time! I hope you can save and make it to CA next year, still waiting to meet all my Ruby Sisters!

    • I hate to fly, di, but I love my sisters tons, so we shall just have to wait and see what the year brings. One way or the other, sisters we are, and sisters we will always be. {{{Hugs}}}

  6. We did have fun, didn’t we! And now I’m paying for it.

    • Me, too, doll, but I’d do it again in a (ahem) NY minute! My ears are still ringing and there are a few residual physical issues, but too bad! What a blast. Hubble even admitted he was sorry to have missed Jersey Boys!

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