Went to New York for the bookexpo.
Four days all about books hanging with editors, and writers, and found one of mine on the shelf. Nice…
Final thoughts about trip…
The trip was cool and insightful. Tons of free books and talking to individuals who are collectively pretty unsure exactly what we’re doing here. Where’s the food is the most common question other than, where’s your bookstore again? And I Made a few new decent contacts. Had bad luck. Good luck. More bad luck. Absurd amounts of bad luck, and Talked about writing and books all day. Which isn’t anything new. Walked the streets with friends, alone, and searched hours for a lighter; all and all New York City is exactly what I thought. Living human lives like ants on a jiffy pop hill, The city is the heart of nonsense, but it’s also robotically beautiful. Moves in a sorta motion that can’t be stopped, and honestly, I can’t wait to get home, and I can’t wait to come back. Amazing city.
Adventures In American Writing 
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