by 2nd Chance | August 6th, 2010
- “Having an evil twin ain’t all bad. I have someone to blame everything on!” Dead Reckoning blew the flaming Twinkie out. The rum soaked treat cast an eerie flicker against the railing before going out with a puff of smoke. She took a messy bite, trying to catch the cream as it dribbled down her shirt.
Chance shivered, trying to block the conversation out as she hunched over the bowl of mini chocolate chips, painstakingly stuffing them one by one into the creamy white filling of a huge stack of waiting snack cakes.
- Bo’sun reached over and stabbed at the melted remains on Reckoning’s plate, getting a bite for herself. “It was all Scapegoat’s fault, anyway. Handy having her share the room. I like having someone to blame everything on!”
- “Hey! I brought the rum!” Scape’s brow wrinkled perfectly. “I knew I should have…”
- Chance looked up to glare at the blond. “Shut it or I’ll sic Stitch on you. Soon as he’s finished chasing the monkey.” The bartender groaned as she straightened her back, glancing at the Double Stuffed Twinkie pyramid; three feet high, glistening with sugar and sitting in a puddle of rum. “Quit eating them, I want to do this right!”
Sin reached out of the shadows, her black clad arm appearing as if unattached to a body. “Hey! Twinkies!”
Just then Chance threw the lit match on the stack. Sin jerked away as the whoosh of flame rose into the night…
Chance began her chant, “I am not an imposter… I am not an imposter… I am not…”
A delighted shriek filled the air as a blue streak flew from the yardarm. “TWINKIES!”
The white fluff, caramelized cake and melted chocolate flew into the air to rain down on the five pirates. Sin rushed to the water barrel and began to douse the bits of flame scattered on the deck, muttering about upsetting the captain.
- “This is my fault,” Scapegoat moaned.
The Bo’sun calmly picked a large piece of pastry out of Reckoning’s shoulder and popped it into her mouth. Reckoning did the same to the Bo’sun.
- Chance looked at the blue alien, stuffing remains of the ritualistic bonfire into his mouth and sighed. “Guess I need to actually rationally figure this out…”
The Nationals. I had a great time. I met with my agent. Stuck my foot in my mouth with my won-on-FB mentor, insulted Jennifer Ashley when I tried to compliment her… Drank too much (or not enough, I’m not sure), missed hearing Nora speak… Dressed up like a fixer of air ships at a party where no one knew me. (I lurk on the FF&P boards, but am invisible.)
Great time! Felt wonderful!
Until Saturday night. At the RITAS. Well, after the RITAS.
OK, confession time. I do not see myself ever winning a RITA. Ever. I don’t dream of it. Don’t really…well…want one. (I wouldn’t mind a Prism Award… I could see me with one a’ those!)
Am I fooling myself and secretly lust for a RITA? I don’t think so… I wouldn’t turn one down, I just doubt that anything I write will ever fit into this possibility. So, why envision that. I’d rather envision other thing…like me on the cover of Pirate Magazine… (You check out the copy I left with you yet, Bo’sun?)
Nice ceremony, fair dinner, fabulous desert. (Really fabulous desert. Wow, that desert. I mean…oh, sorry…) Of the 93 nominated books, I’d read three of them. All the cheering, clapping, whoo-hooing…I felt a clamor starting in my head, what was I doing here?
I remember feeling this way last year in DC. An acute attack of imposter-itis. This time, it got worse, culminating back in the room while Scape and the Bo’sun changed from nice dresses to last-night-bar comfies… I broke down in tears.
Tried not to! Lost that fight.
Sigh.
Tried to explain to my roomies how out of place and awkward I felt during and after the RITAS. Bo’sun chatted up her editor friend; Scape her editor friend. (Both have my book in their in-boxes…leaving me as the deer-in-headlight struck super boob. What to say that wouldn’t sound like pleading…)
In reaction to my tears and words, Scape spouts off, “All my fault, I should have…” I smacked her on the back of the head. (When I nicknamed her Scapegoat I had no idea how appropriate this name was! I was just trying to poke at how pretty and nice she was…you know how it is, I was poking at her…)
“This isn’t about you, twit, it’s about me. And the haunting presence of the lurking imposter.”
“You have an agent…why do you feel like you don’t belong here?” Bo’sun, queen of the obvious and practical, states.
Did I claim to understand or view my outburst as rational?
(I washed my face, took a pill and enjoyed the rest of the evening…don’t worry.)
Nope, just my insecurities rising from four days of non-stop ‘doing’…the specter of PMS, distance from home and excessive heat/humidity. (Like my excuses? Wish they’d worked.) I actually am a confident writer. I love my stories. This isn’t about the writing skills. If anything, it’s about the sense of crashing a party I though was open to everyone…and feeling like a blue skinned alien at a Regency cotillion. (Though Stitch would probably take it all in stride. He’s my new role model.) (Imagine him dressed as a duke…he was nice as Elvis…)
Perhaps a confidence anxiety attack? PTSD stemming from an adolescent event I don’t remember when I was made to feel as outside an outsider can be?
I honestly don’t know!
There is the lurking sense that this is all some cosmic joke and I am a total imposter…on the verge of having the rug ripped from beneath my feet…
Absolutly, frickin’ terrifying place to be…
Hence, the sacrifice of many Double Stuffed Flaming Twinkies to hold back the dark…
Luckily, Stitch is visiting and saw through the whole thing…
Sigh. It couldn’t be that easy…
I may keep him around for awhile…
Anyone else know this masked shadow at your back? Any advice? Rituals? Banishing spells?
Anyone want to take best on who is gonna win – The Undead Monkey or Stitch? 
(I insist on some fun for Friday, despite my angst attack!)
Ohhhhhh, serving the Hotties from the necklace. Sorry. I thought we were wearing it at the conference. Hey, if we bring the Hotties to the conference. . .
Yeah. Probably not a good idea.
I’ve tried twice to send a Yahoo email and it is ignoring me. So either I broke it or it’s gonna let loose with both of them all at once. Just warning you.
Great, Donna bombs. Something to look forward to!
No, hotties belong at RT. Tough Scott Eagan wore a kilt and one agent had a twead jacket that had several ladies all swoony…
The swoon-inducing agent was Steve Axelrod. I’ll admit, the guy is a slick dresser, but I don’t get the swooning. No offense to the man, he’s clearly an amazing agent. A glance at his client list will tell you that. But I didn’t get the swoon thing.
Me neither. I mean, nice looking guy. But swoon-inducing? OK, if he held out a contract, I might swoon…
I nearly swooned when he requested a full off a query about a year ago. It didn’t end up going anywhere, or I would have swooned again. LOL (He’s Suzanne Brockmann’s agent!)
Get me in a bidding war and I’d do more than swoon, I’d out and out faint.
After hyperventilating.
He’s Nora’s agent and Julia Quinn’s and SEP’s and Jayne Ann Krentz and Julie Ann Long – just to name a few. LOL!
I’m pretty sure the dude could retire tomorrow if he wanted, and live a very cushy life.
May that be the truth with our agents, eventually. (Because we sell so well…)
I’ll raise my shotglass to that, Chance!
*clinks glass with everyone else’s*
Wow, I’m stunned at 110 comments. I figured I might strike a chord with openning discussing my melt down…but I had no idea.
Goes to show that we are all wallflowers at some stage in our lives.
It is possible to recover from imposter-itis. Or at least not let it rule your life. As I said before, I am much more out there then I once was. Imposter-itis was in total control when I wandered about the Nationals in San Francisco, despite being on home territory.
It held less control in DC and it really only flared a few times in Orlando. I had a few minor melts, but only the one major melt down.
There was that one time you snapped my head off, but then I inserted food and you were better.
I think we’re all more “Chatty Cathy” this week.
We saved it up while all of you guys were gone at RWA.
Bo’sun brains…I was working off some zombie energy…
And I have no recollection of the event at all! I’m blessed with a memory that generally works for me this way…
And time to eat before I start lusting after Bo’sun brains again…
Wait, was Donna saying they missed us?
I love how she says “All of you…” LOL! TWO of us went. There were seven of you still here!
*red face*
Uh, I guess that means you have larger-than-life personalities.
I thought there were more of you at the conference.
LOL
We do tend to make enough noise for four or five people.
And I’m sure any syndrom you’d come down with would be much more scientific in nature… Einstein-itis or something like that.
The tendency to let the hair grow wild…and wear sweaters.
I’ve already caught that one!
Anyone notice if Helli flashed for beads …. just to prove me wrong? *wicked grin*
Count me among those who were overwhelmed at Nationals.
Even meeting Terri, I was completely tongue-tied. It didn’t help that she knew EVERYONE who walked by. Sabrina Jefferies, Miranda Neville, Chance, Scapegoat, Tiffany Clare…
Everyone was lovely and very kind, but wow. I came home determined that this was my first and last National conference. That feeling is fading-slowly.
Di
NO! You have to go again, Di. LOL! We didn’t even get to have dinner like we planned. I guess I did talk to a few people while we were sitting there. LOL! But hundreds walked by that I didn’t know!
It gets easier. I was totally overwhelmed in San Fran, my first one. It didn’t help that the time change thing really screwed with me and I was awake for 22 hrs straight on day one. Never recovered from that and ended up missing work when I got back due to severe jet lag.
*flashes Q and shimmies her shoulders, sassy grin* Can you see me now?
Yeah, for Hellie! Let’s all line up and flash Q, ladies!
Bo’sun, we are ALL THAT!
Di, no! Please come again and plan on more visiting. Terrio was going nuts trying to connect with you, drover her crazy that she couldn’t make it work!
Really, SanFran totally floored me. I was staying a short BART ride away and came in and out, lunched with my husband the ONE day I wandered around. I was lost in the hotel, knew absolutely NO ONE. Didn’t buy one book, get one autograph… I don’t even remember going to one panel…
*flashes Q and shimmies her shoulders, sassy grin* Can you see me now?
Yeah, for Hellie! Let’s all line up and flash Q, ladies!
Good Lord. Not even Mrs Q does that for me!
I’ll be having torrid dreams tonight!
Hard to resist a smart man with messy hair and sweaters…
Well, Q, what else would you expect of a bunch of pirates? (Or in this case, a bunch of brassy Americans? *LOL* How do you think we Colonials won the war the first time anyway?)
Sorry that sounded so whiney. I AM going next year. And looking forward to being able to visit more.
I’m sorry about the snafu with my phone. As soon as we landed, it was fine. I don’t know what happened and the guy at the store was rude and unhelpful.
Di
We flashed the British Army?
Wow, they sure didn’t put that in the history books!
Didn’t want to give away our war strategies. I wonder if it should be implemented again?
Di, sometimes the phone stuff drives a person crazy. And technology in general! Scape got me hooked up with Twitter and I haven’t moved on it at all! So convinced I’ll do something wrong and blow up the twittasphere.
Go back to the store and lodge a complaint about the jerk and get someone else to help you.
We can line up and flash the taliban?
Man, and thought we were going to hell before!
Don’t forget to shimmy when you flash ‘em. Something about the jiggle is more mesmerizing than Edward Cullen’s skin in the sunlight. (Unless the guy you’re flashing prefers Edward Cullen, then the flashing would be moot.)
I don’t know, if I shimmy I may poke out an eye…
If you’re going to flash the taliban, make sure you use sunscreen. The sun is brutal over there. @@
I think I will go back. I knew I was too tired to confront him then-it would have been very ugly. But I’ve been with that company for 11 yrs, if I don’t get some answers, I’ll be taking my business somewhere else.
Did Scape ever crash after her lunch of carbs and caffeine?
What is BART?
Di
BART – Bay Area Rapid Transit … it’s the underground train for the SanFran area. Sorry, one of those things I tend to forget not everyone knows.
I don’t think Scape crashed until that last night. Sat…she fell asleep while Ter and I were still chatting.
You guys are like the Energizer bunny today. LOL You keep going, and going. . .
I have done NOTHING productive today. Okay, one little thing, but that’s it. I am going to go read Loretta Chase’s newest — I started it last night and love it already.
I knew we were bad for you Donna. I’m sorry. Go write!
LOL, Hellie — you’re not bad for me! I’m bad for myself!
I was so confused, Di, when I could see that you called me on the number in my phone, and then when I’d call the recording would say I had a bad number. So weird that you could text but not take calls. Never heard of something like that before.
Happy to hear you’ll be attending in NYC. I’m hoping sometime around Feb or March we can get a group together and plan ahead to take in a show. I’ve never been to NYC and I will not finally get there and not catch a show on Broadway.
Oh, yes! That would be so cool. I thought I’d get to a bookstore this weekend and look for a guidebook…
I love guidebooks.
Sounds like a plan to me. I know Barb had I’d love to see a show.
Di
OMG-that totally didn’t make any sense.
Redo-Sounds good to me, I know Barb had said maybe we’d catch one.
Di
I’m all for it! I’d rather come in early… I’m still looking at flying home on a Saturday morning of a three day weekend. Wonder if it might be better to catch a flight later in the day…