RWA, romance, work trip, rant, will not win this one

So, after the delightful outpouring of a few weeks ago, I'm now in the US (no, I didn't run away). I had a meet up with the ex as he had insisted, which was dangerously nice, only to go to a wedding on Saturday and watch him meet somebody new. Things rather devolved after that, with much drunken crying on my side and an unfortunate bit of pointy-fingered 'you shat on me from a great height' and 'what was wrong with me' which is still, along with the image of the other girl's beautiful voice and black halterneck dress, waking me up occasionally at nights with a shudder. Anyway, it's done, dignity is unfortunately lost, and I remember, once again and hopefully for the last time, that I need to not see him. There is no good end to this, he doesn't know why he stopped trying but he does want to talk about how sad that is, I don't know why I changed what I wanted from him or why I put up with being treated nastily or why I keep being tempted back there in spite of EVERY BIT OF EVIDENCE showing that it doesn't work - being with him makes me miserable. The problem is dealing with that and understanding that it doesn't mean I'm worthless, or even not as good/cool/complete as him. I am a good person. Kind, intelligent, occasionally thoughtless and rude but basically well-intentioned and I can read very fast indeed. I'm just terribly frightened that I'll not get over him in time, that I'll just keep wondering why, if he's so sad (or was so sad) he didn't try to get me back. Even though I honestly believe that we aren't right for each other and if he had asked me I would have said no. Probably. I don't know because I can't actually imagine it happening, but I just really, really wanted the bit where he humbled himself at my feet and said what a total dick he was and could we start again and I said no. We've come close, but mostly he's just angry and resentful 'you told me I was a dick for two years' (he has a point) and then worse, on Saturday, being kind to me, 'yes, I did get her number. I'm sorry'. Oh Anna. Please stop this now. You weren't happy with him. I can't win this one and I have to let it go.

Huh. Just took a break from the rant and did something else and do immediately feel better. It's so strange but I think a good sign. Just keep remembering: you are better without him and you are a good, strong person. I think a week in San Antonio, a place where people use the term 'self-actualisation' without irony and with a z might be getting to me. Speaking of...

I'm on a work trip, my first ever, and have just finished a Texas conference.  My last night tonight, so I've had most of the day off, apart from an author lunch, and have explored a bit more (well, at all, as previous expeditions have been limited to finding restaurants for  authors). I went to see the Alamo, which was rather underwhelming as it's basically a garden and several stone walls, but they did show us an adorably earnest 1990s Historical Channel film, all 'there is no documented evidence for this event, but wasn't it awesome!!'), then went to Mexico market, which was fun, had a margherita at a famous bar, bought a street taco and watched a small boy fall off a rodeo bull, cheered on by his whole family.

San Antonio is a strange place - I wasn't keen at first as it seemed like it had taken all of its very interesting history and turned it into Disneyland (most of the conference is around a very strange area involving three different malls and a fake, bright blue river with terrible, shouting restaurants everywhere and pan flutes). Everything is scarily clean and they have 'tourist police' everywhere, who accost you the moment you might look even slightly unsure, 'Do you all need assistance ma'am?' Plus, the combo of the stifling, unbelievably humid heat and the freezing air conditioning is odd, and the food is incredibly Southern - a lot of cheese on everything, even/especially the salads. But the people are lovely, very warm indeed and after a while their friendliness, the heat and the immense portion sizes make sense - San Antonio is a generous, gracious, genuinely warm place and they're determined to keep it that way. I think that's something to be respected, particularly when it's compared to London's 'prove your commitment to us by staying here and paying obscene rent while we all ignore you, until one day you too want to stab people who stand on the wrong side of the escalator.' I'm pretty reluctant to go to New York actually, feels like stepping back into all the stress!
 
I promised myself I'd at least note down what I've  done as otherwise my  horrible memory will blank it out and replace it with vague wisps of emotion within a week. It's been exciting, though occasionally lonely (mostly people are there with others from their publishers) however being on my own has, I think, been extremely good for me. I always feel most myself when travelling and wondering around is just fantastic, when not late/too lost!

Tuesday eve - got in around 7.30 and went straight out to meet JQ, who is as effervescent and delightful and intelligent as her books indicate. She's tough though, in the way of authors who are famous and have had to get used to being courted. Ate an excellent steak in a strange place called Hotel Havana. Two mojitos down I stopped making any sense when the jet lag hit, but overall think it went well.

Wednesday - hmm. Finding this worryingly hard to recall. Ah yes, this was my weirdest day I think - fewest meetings and no idea really where to go! First entrance into the Rivercentre, a fairly vile conference centre hotel. Sudden transferral from sauna to fridge was a little off-putting, but met lovely blonde and pregnant agent who has some thoroughly good books and is just quite a generally cheery person to kick off the morning with (unlike Thursday's meeting, which was more like a gauntlet with excellent eggs at the end). Then took lovely author to lunch in a cafe, delightful and new and sweet and GMW's first acquisition. Lovely and long chat about the magnificent Tiffany Reisz and my first discovery of rubber  cheese on salads. Then met a conference legend, let's call her the conference godmother. She knows everyone and meeting with her was like being allowed into an exclusive (and reassuringly jewish) hall of fame. Then came back, bit dead, visited Havana again for food and tried to order light (crab salad and tomato soup). The salad was covered in vinegar and cheese to a quite incredible extent but the soup was extraordinary - so thick with cream that when I turned the spoon upside down it stayed put... Not my most successful of meals, tbh. Came back to an oddly large and quiet room that I'm now totally used to and never want to leave (what, live without a balcony and a river? Are you mad?)

Thursday - morning gauntlet. Very rewarding and not just because of the yummy breakfast but because the NY agent in question knows Everything. She was fascinating, terrifying and exhilarating. I felt like we ended up by getting on, but the jury's out as to how much this was helped by my walking over an air vent on the way back to the hotel in a short dress and having my very own Marilyn Monroe moment. Unfortunately I didn't react with the requisite 'oh dear me' and modest holding down of skirt but panicked, raised my arms and showed the world my assets. It was spectacular and I don't think the agent stopped laughing for the next three blocks, except for the bit when she complemented me on my underwear. JAK for lunch, which was awesome - she's thin and powerful. Amazon are picking her brains. Skipped out of an agent party and went to meet the lovely Laura - a San Antonio local who had offered help in finding my way around. Had far too many cocktails at an amazing bar, and started to slightly fall  in love with San Antonio. Ate a solitary steak while being flirted with at the bar (in Texas my attractiveness appears to have been magically increased - an English accent and being less than a size 20 are powerful weapons, it appears). Jo and Bryony in the evening, mourned Kiss but excellent to see them.

Friday (god this is boring, this is why I'm a rubbish diary writer) - the Pitches of Doom. They'd double booked me 15 times (system fail) so had authors pitch stories at me for hours. I don't understand pitching. It doesn't matter how nice (or otherwise) they are - until I've read what they've written it's basically all just noise. I also had the worst pitch of my life - phallus-phobia lady. Intense eyes, total commitment to her own insanity and a healthy dose of paranoia. She was special. Missed drinks with an agent who still hasn't replied to my grovels (oops) and then took KC out for dinner - another lovely author and the best food of all (any visitors to San Antonio - go to Bella on the River, it's fab). Watermelon, feta and cucumber salad with truffle oil and some gorgeous halibut. Very sexy author, oddly, I found myself with a faint crush, I think owing to the piles of strawberry blonde hair - I suspect i just never got over Nancy Drew.

Sat - an awkward breakfast with Forever, then EJ and the nicest chat of all. What a wonderfully intelligent, lovely lady, who then gave an amazing speech at the prize giving. Completely in love. Also, she sort of looks like Helen Hunt. Mediocre hotel dinner (gah, breadcrumbs on chickenwings gah) and then awkward prize giving. Very, very weird not having a publisher to sit with! my lovely editor friend did invite me, to be fair, but it was strange not having edited any of these authors - I miss so much being the primary editor - feel like I have given up the heart of my job. Though I suppose it does mean that I get to hold the fun lunches rather than the

Today - Alamo (as said)  and STUPENDOUS art gallery that I forgot to mention. Latino art, absolutely spectacular.

Right. I am exhausted and have to get up in five(ish) hours for the very early flight, and haven't packed or paid the hotel bill. Tis time to go. Till next time, internet.

swirting, myfeinn, wiprack, krartorian, sapien, glorgumant, gruckeskt are all words that are not words to describe this revolting feeling. Futureschmertzen? It's no good. Definitely used to be able to write about it but I'm so grindled tonight. Feels like nothing would ever be enough to fill the great big black hole of needinesss that is me. Pushing away friends so they don't reject me first. Like I'm made of jelly. Like I'm back in school and not quite cool or interesting enough. Looking over my friends' shoulders at school - clearly they're not cool enough if they're talking to me. Stupid, pretentious, not-quite-as-clever-as-she-seems-at-first basically unoriginal and, when one comes down to it, a bit shallow. Not capable of building a real relationship, at best sort of a worshipping audience of someone who eventually wanted more than admiration. Unable to write this without feeling embarrassed by it. Editing it (I mean, grindled? That's stupid. Why not just use a real word?). Spending my life in stories instead of actually working anything out in the real world. Now completely lost. Too many qualifiers. Definitely borderline alcoholic (or just Londoner). How about this for a Soulmates profile? Also, I like yoga. #everything. Going to Byron Burger (which I don't like, it's silly and the burgers are rubbish and everyone's loud in Farringdon) because I don't want to be alone. Missing my friends although they are here. Endlessly comparing my life to books. Not sure how to cope with the next few months because he has someone new and I don't. Totally over it though. Totally fine. Fucking fucking arse.

Oh dear. I don't know what to do. I don't think I don't know if I can cope with seeing him with beautiful dark-haired girl and happy. Not on holidays, not being on emails he sends about gigs. I feel so stupid for not being more over this. It's been almost TWO YEARS. TWO YEARS. And I've been trying to do so many things. But essentially, it comes down to the fact that it's clearly easier for him to find someone. I'm exhausted. Everything is hard. Work, family, friends, him. Even home. Rented home with one housemate who appears to no longer want to talk to me (not that I'm exactly a nice easy barrel of laughs at present. Actually a barrel of laughs sounds scary). I feel like getting older means increasing distance from everyone and everything and the more I try to grab at things, the further away they are.

Breaking Bad, sexy books, The Lemon Grove, wizened

I read a very sexy book yesterday: The Lemon Grove. I read so many sexy books for work that it's quite odd to find one that really gets to me, but this was shockingly hot and a little bit wrong. Amazing combo of beautiful, evocative and literary writing with sexual excess and loss of control - just gorgeous and rather a shame they've packaged it so innocently! I do hope I find someone to have amazing sex with before I grow wizened, it would be a shame not to take advantage. Just got back from a holiday in Turkey, which was difficult, but very nice in places. I hate that my dad's ill. I hate Parkinsons. I know I should be mature and supportive and good but I don't feel like that. I feel like an angry child. In other news, Mum went on her skydive on Sunday. I missed the actual jump thanks to poor planning, a terrible hangover and the apparent two and a half hour lunch break that train drivers in Peterborough like to take. Still, seeing her afterwards was nice - she was glowing and seemed way more relaxed, which was wonderful. Currently watching Breaking Bad. It depresses me as a show, but think I just need to power through to the end, it's the only way to get through of poor Jessie (*sigh) and his doomed faith in Malcolm in the Middle's dad. Here goes again, episode six of the final season - Walter is no doubt about to be a douche.