So, this past weekend, I spent three days in San Francisco, which I have often described as the "greatest weekend city in the world" and it did not disappoint. The trip was a bit of a last-minute affair - since I'd only really "planned" it a week ago. A new friend, also a writer, was headed off to the San Francisco Writers Conference (http://www.sfwriters.org/), and had a room at the Intercontinental Mark Hopkins. Well, the offer of finally being able to get serious about my book project combined with the prospect of spending Valentine's Day at the most romantic hotel (and hotel bar) that I know of proved impossible to resist.
The Conference
There's no doubt that writing is a lonely thing. The experience itself is really best accomplished when alone - but it can also make the distance between the words on your screen and the words in the books on the bookshelves seem impassible. So, being amongst a room full of writers was extraordinarily inspiring. All at once, it seemed as though I might just be able to get my book published after all. All this creativity and resolve in the same place was impressive.
Of course, there's no doubt from the look of the crowd that these are people who spend a significant amount of time by themselves. Which is not to say that it was a particularly unattractive crowd, but the fact that it was a writer's convention would have been immediately obvious to any passers-by without ever having to read any of the posted signs. As in most situations, I was feeling a little bit of an odd-man-out, but under the circumstances, the feeling was more welcome this time than most others.
By the end of the conference I had accomplished two very exciting things:
1. I resolved to begin writing a memoir - which I won't say too much more about here, but it is a project that I'm very excited to begin. There was a fantastic workshop on memoirs - and I've always, always wanted to tell my story. But, more importantly,
2. I had pitched my book to four different literary agents, and all four of them asked me to send them a book proposal and a sample of the book. I am going to put the book pitch in a subsequent blog entry - so stay tuned!
The Hotel
The Top of the Mark is the consummate San Francisco bar. I don't even like San Francisco, and I love this bar. The Intercontinental Mark Hopkins Hotel is a beautiful historic hotel on the very corner of Nob Hill - and at its very top floor sits this ignominious night spot. There are windows all the way around - with a view of the city that makes it feel as though you're in the middle of a postcard. They have one hundred different martinis on their drink menu, and all patrons are seated (i.e. if they don't have a table for you, you're not getting into the bar). In the middle of the place is a small dance floor where a live jazz quintet plays everything from standards, to ballads to very cheeky covers of songs you thought you'd only hear at weddings and barmitzvahs. But the best part of all is that everyone gets dressed up. That's right, a regular night spot where there's no one wearing jeans.
To spend a Valentines Day night at a place was just about the best V-day that I can recall. It was one of those nights when one is tremendously glad to be a grown-up and to be to truthfully enjoy the sublime beauty of such a place on such a night.
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I could go on and on... especially about the Hot & Sour soup at the House of Nanking and the world's greatest buffet (located, surprisingly at an Irish pub/piano bar) - but I imagine that it suffices to simply say that it was one hell of a weekend.
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