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THE AGATHA AWARDS OR THE TALE OF THE TOELESS HOSE
went to Washington, DC, a little over a week ago to find out if Circles
of Confusion had one of the big mystery awards, the Agatha
Award. Circles was one of five books in the nation in the running for
the award for “best first mystery.”
I didn't
win, but I had a great time anyway. (I'm pretty sure I might have come
in second, but they only announce the winner.) Picture this: the conference,
Malice Domestic, has 700 mystery fans, all there to see the 100 or so
authors in attendance. Every hour there are two or three panels you
can go hear, where four or five authors talk about “Mystery's
Bad Girls,” or “Humor in the Mystery.” And you can
also mingle in the bar with your favorite authors and buy them drinks.
(I drank more in three days than I have in probably a whole year—that's
what happens when you're neither driving or paying.)
It was
strange being a demi-celebrity, and having trembling strangers ask if
it were okay to take my picture.
At the
big banquet where they announced the awards, I wore the latest thing—toeless
pantyhose. My friend Vicki had seen them on Good Morning America, and
she said I absolutely had to have a pair to wear with my silver sandals.
That way my legs would look smooth (the pantyhose) and I would still
have toe cleavage (the toeless part). I ordered them off the Internet
(they'll be at Nordstrom later in the year), only to learn they would
ship in six to eight weeks—well after the banquet.
I figured
it didn't hurt to ask and explained what it was for. A team of people
at the company Fed-Exed me three pair in a range of shades the day before
the event. I wore them and they made a great ice breaker.
My other
triumph to report is that my editor has allowed me to kill off one character
she earlier thought didn't need to die in my next book, Heart-Shaped
Box.
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