And . . . I'm Off!

It's been a "literary week," to borrow some phrasing from friend and novelist, Noel Alumit.

This past Sunday:
I helped out at the West Hollywood Book Fair, as a volunteer. I got to listen to Noel speak on two different panels.

I love books. I love being around where they are sold, the way some people love being in shoe stores. I cannot enter a bookstore I happen to be passing by, major chain or independent, and not find something that I just have to have, whether it be frivolous or classic, or something in between.

I bought Mickel Angelo Paris's novel, "The West Hollywood Story," mostly because he's half Asian/half caucasian, like me, and I'm narcissistic enough to fork out some cash for that reason alone.

Last night:
I attended the first class meeting for an Introduction to Fiction Writing workshop, taught by--yes!--Noel Alumit (I tend to stalk those that I admire). I was a-swirl with joy and expectation. The first meeting alone was everything I had hoped it would be. It's going to be a busy and great ten weeks, this course. Mr. Alumit must have given us a good first work out--I was starving after class.

Tomorrow night:
I'll attend a book signing and meet Alex Sanchez, one of my newest favorite authors.
His latest novel is titled, "The God Box," and deals with the identity conflict of homosexuality and a Christian upbringing. This is my book. Thank you, Mr. Sanchez.

BFF Kathy thinks that I'm going to try to seduce Alex Sanchez, when I meet him in person.

You don't know me.

Okay, so, she's the person who knows me best in this world. As long as I end up with an autographed copy of his new book in hand, that will be sufficient . . . for the time being.