I've often told people I'm used to traveling by myself. This is technically true. Most of my trips during the year are to writers conferences, so usually Mr. M stays home. But this trip to Boston reminded me that while I usually travel alone, I am anything but alone when I arrive. I almost always room with a friend, and I have plenty of friends to hang out with during the day. I love seeing folks and catching up with them at workshops, over a meal, or at the bar. And I often meet with my editor and my agent. Writers conferences--at least romance writers conferences--are noisy, busy, crazy, people-filled events.
This trip I'm much more alone. Yes, I saw swimmer boy--and other swim parents I've seen over the four years swimmer boy's been on the team. I even got a chance to see my writer pal Caroline Linden and her family. But I spent a lot of time by myself. Not that I don't spend a lot of time by myself at home, but that's different.
So while I was glad to come, I'm glad to go home, back to the familiar surroundings, familiar routines, and, yes, Mr. M.
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