I was going to post about this afternoon’s panic attack, triggered by the realization that there are suddenly only two months to Bouchercon and I need to figure out transportation—my car, Rocinante, is starting to disintegrate—and what to pack and send in my check for the awards dinner—if I decide to go because all my clothes all make me look like a civil servant who changes printer toner for a living—finish revising Pigeon, get plastic surgery, grow my hair out, and transform myself into someone who doesn’t mind going to a strange city all by herself and will keep calm and poised in the presence of her favorite authors, all of whom are real people who all once stood where I stand, yes, but, oh God, whatever you do, don’t forget deodorant . . .
And then I found this:
I listened to it three times.
One cannot panic to Bach’s cello piece. One can only stop, listen, and breathe.
And then move on.
Earful of Cider 
Two months is so much time. So much.
But goodness, don’t forget the deodorant…and the flask.
Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick!!
The very small part of me that doesn’t panic is reassuring me that St. Louis stores probably carry deodorant and a variety of booze. But I could only hear it after Bach.
That was gorgeous. As for your upcoming adventure, I have no doubt you’ll kick some butt. But, yes, deodorant is always a good thing.
The musician has more multi-track pieces available, but this one is my favorite so far.
(extra deodorant!)
Aaaaaahhhh, Bach. There IS that saying that music soothes the savage beast. Of course, there is always the wonderful self affirmation of Stuart Smalley: I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me. (Lather, rinse, repeat.)
I think I’ll soothe rather than Smalley . . . though I confess that I kind of have a soft spot (possibly in my head) for Stuart. 🙂
We all have our panic attacks. You don’t need plastic surgery. You should give yourself a little treat and buy a couple of nice button-downs or blouses (it’ll make you feel better, swear). And you don’t have to feel comfortable with going to a strange city. You just have to be able to get there, and smile. Which you can. And when you do, you’ll take a shaky breath and realize that Bouchercon is going to be so much fun, the nervous will disappear as if it never were. Now, start your packing list!
Yes, Ma’am.
Get there and smile. That’s my brand new mantra, that is.
Plenty, plenty of time. Take a deep breath. And then a drink or two.
As for transportation, I hear the Megabus is cheap.
In fact, want me to plan the whole trip for you?
I just might throw myself on your mercy, Sherry—I’ll let you know.