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Robin McKinley

Robin McKinley is coming to Boston! AAAAAAHHHHH! I have to go! I must go!
To back up, Robin McKinley will be the guest of honor at Boskone, a Science Fiction Convention in Boston on February 13-15, 2015.
You know how you fantasize about meeting your favorite authors? I mean, when I was a child and had just read The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, by C.S. Lewis, I was so excited. I wanted to write a letter and thank him for his wonderful book. I was so disappointed to find out he had died. Well, meeting Robin McKinley has been a dream of mine ever since Beauty came out in 1978. I’ve read all of her books (okay, read and reread and reread), and I love her characters, her plots, her creative worlds, and her stream of consciousness style of writing. I loved her most recent book, Shadows. I can’t wait for the weekends when her on-going story of Kes appears on her blog. I’m looking forward to the second half of Pegasus, which is still to come out. Whenever I can’t find another book that is just right, I get Sunshine out and settle down for a good read. My copy of The Blue Sword is looking decidedly tattered at this point. Robin McKinley has been a huge influence on my own writing.
Anyway, I’ve wondered how I could convince my husband that we just had to go to England, so I could crash Robin McKinley’s gate and say hi. Perhaps she’d invite me to lunch and introduce me to her hellhounds. (Oh, yeah. We’d probably meet her husband, Peter Dickinson, too. I enjoy his books as well.) We’d sit at her table, munch on cucumber sandwiches, and talk about writing, our favorite books, and of course, dogs. And it would be So Incredibly Wonderful… Sigh.
On the other hand, I doubt she would appreciate the gate-crashing. I mean, she has a Life, which she generously shares with her fans on her blog. She’s busy. She deserves to have some privacy. And what do you say once you get there? ‘Hi, you don’t know me, but you’re my favorite author. I love your books. Will you adopt me?’ Or more likely, stare at her and drool in idiotic silence, and wonder what new story is percolating through her wonderfully creative mind. It would probably annoy her to pieces. Or more likely, it would embarrass her. I mean, how do I feel when someone says, ‘I really, really liked your book?’ Well, I’m happy (okay, I’m ecstatic), but after a while, you run out of things to say. ‘Um. I’m glad you liked my book. Yes, I’m writing a new story now. Not quite ready to share anything about it yet. Er. Nice weather we’re having, isn’t it? Go away.’ Of course, I haven’t had to deal with fans, so perhaps she has a better way of getting rid of them — like sicking the hellhounds on them… or posting Muracs at the corners of her house.
But now, I don’t have to go to England:  she’s coming here to America. Of course the weather in February is bound to be bad, but a plane ticket doesn’t cost that much. (well… perhaps if I didn’t buy so many books each month, I could convince my husband that this is completely and absolutely essential for my life and ongoing wellbeing.) I’ll miss seeing her house and dogs, but at least I’ll get to meet her. I’ll go to the convention, shake her hand, and try to get something intelligent to come out of my mouth. Perhaps I could invite her to come and stay at my house…


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