Still on East Coast time, so I'm a little groggy, but the laundry's nearly done and the stack of books I dragged home has been jammed into the TBR shelf.
Lots of people have recorded the official goings-on at Thrillerfest - the panels, the debut authors, the famous guys - so I'll just note a few highly personal experiences. First of all, I got to visit the Random House offices. I guess in most ways the building isn't very different from any other downtown office building, with its echo-ey reception area and elevator banks and uniformed reception staff, but even before I put my hand on the door handle I got an incredibly reverent shivery feeling. Knowing I was about to enter a genuine New York publishing house just about did me in, my friends.
And that's before I saw what they'd done with the decor. This is actually a two-story display, shelf upon shelf filled with first editions of the books Random House has published over the years. In person, it's astonishing, brilliant and humbling.
And here's a glimpse into an afternoon I'll never forget. This is the gen-u-ine Irish waitress who brought shots and chasers to our small and merry band - me and my agent and editor and publicist, all of us celebrating the book whose debut is now mere weeks away. Could I be any happier or more grateful? Nope, don't think so.
And finally, here's penance for that last, not-entirely-flattering shot I posted of me with my favorite industry professional...