The festival was a huge success. Yea to all us hard-working, long-suffering festival workers.

My panel went pretty well – I guess. My Sisters made sure I went potty before so I didn’t fidget. No one chucked rotten fruit at me so that’s a win in my book. I got laughs when I was hoping for them and didn’t when I was serious. There were nods from the audience so what I was saying must have been making sense.

Kelli’s hard work also when over well. Her slide show presentation was fun and thought provoking.

There were moments there when we felt like we must actually be writers.

For us, though, the best parts of the festival, without a doubt, is interacting with the famous and not so famous authors. Writers are funny people. I know of no other arty type who are more self-effacing and unsure of their own abilities than writers. It seems we are always amazed when people like our work.

I made six runs to the airport on Friday. I’m fairly certain I did not drive anywhere at the legal speed limit. A couple of times, like when I made it from the airport to La Paloma and back to the airport in 65 minutes, I might have broken the sound barrier.

Even with all that kinetic activity, and the amount of $3.65 gasoline I went through in my gas hog, I still had a great time. I picked up Iris Johanson and her son, an author in his own right, and they were just the nicest people. She was exactly what you’d expect from one of the classic romance divas of the 1980’s – tiny little woman dressed to the nines

Ava and Rachel Gibson

with a face full of artfully applied make-up and big Atlanta blond hair. She chattered away non-stop and I liked her immensely. Her son, too, was very genial.  How he, at no less than 6 feet 4 inches, came out of such a tiny woman is beyond me. I got big bear hugs when I left them at their hotel.

Brenda Novak, Rachel Gibson, Chris Marie Green, Zoe Archer, Angela Knight and Lauren Willig were all so much fun and encouraging you just want to eat them all up, buy all their books and make sure everyone you know does the same.

However, the best and most amusing exchanges were to be had with Elmore and Peter (his son the writer) Leonard.

Smiling Elmore and ridiculously unphotogenic Amylynn

Elmore couldn’t be more adorable and curmudgeonly at the same time. At 87 years old the man is still putting out books on a very regular schedule. We think he’s been putting out books at least one a year since like 1950. He’s written things even people who don’t know Elmore Leonard know. Things like 3:10 to Yuma, Hombre with Paul Newman, Get Shorty with John Travolta, Jackie Brown directed by Quintin Tarantino. The man can write dialogue like nobody’s business. I’ve long been a fan, Kelli will be when she’s done reading the book she just bought and Ava realized she was a fan already.

That brings us to our conversations with the Leonards.

Kelli and Ava were with me when I picked them both up for their festival appearances on Saturday morning. We chattered away in the car and all was smooth until we arrived in the parking garage. Elmore slid out of the back seat and immediately lit up a cigarette.

“You shouldn’t smoke,” Ava informed him.                                                               

“I’ve been smoking for 67 years,” Elmore told her.

Kelli & Elmore after Ava finally figured out the camera

“Then this is the perfect time to quit.” Ava wasn’t giving up.

Elmore snorted.

“Pssst,” Kelli hissed at our Sister. “What are you doing?”

“What?” Ava can act remarkably innocent when she puts her mind to it. She looked down at her sandaled feet. “He was concerned about my feet being cold. If he’s worried about my health, I can be worried about his.”

“He’s 87 years old. He’s a famous author. Leave him alone.” Kelli used her stern eyes.

“How famous?” Ava asked. “Really famous?”

“Yeah.”

“Like world famous?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Ava finally understood at the end of the day when she was watching TV and an ad for Justified came on. “Oh, hey,” she said to Ed, “that’s the guy I told to stop smoking today.”

“Elmore Leonard?” He said with his mouth hanging open. “You told Elmore Leonard to stop smoking?”

Ava could only shrug.

It didn’t get better. On Sunday morning it was just me and Kelli in the car. I had to ask Elmore to sign six books. One for me and five for Brenda Novak’s Diabetes Auction because she’s shy. Elmore is ridiculously gracious about signing. Kelli and I witnessed him sign every single book brought in front of him at a signing. Some of these people had three cases of the same book and he didn’t bat an eye.

The trip from his hotel to the venue was only seven minutes or so but it was lively. Peter and Elmore sat in the back seat.

“Did you just run a red light?” Elmore asked me.

“No,” I said with emphasis. “I did not just run a red light.”

“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure you just ran a red light.” He was very calm about it if I did.

“I did not just run a red light. Even if I did, I would still say I didn’t. When the cop pulls me over, I’d really appreciate it if you’d chime in from the back seat that, no, I did not run that red light.”

Elmore shrugged and nodded in agreement. I might be in love with him, just a little bit. For the record, I did not run that red light.  I am 100% confident about that assertion.

He’s definitely now one of the chosen Patron Saints of the Quill Sisters.