Preparation Log #2: Saving Nothing, Losing Things. The Family Business

     I'm writing this while also staring at my new notebook in rage because I WAS AN IDIOT AND LOST MY NANOWRIMO NOTEBOOK AT COMIC-CON.
     This weekend, I had the privilege of being able to attend Comic-Con in Salt Lake City with a good friend of mine. We got to sit on the Iron Throne, I got to watch Chris Evans walk into and out of a bathroom, I listened to Sebastian Stan speak Romanian, and I listened to John Barrowman tell a story about how he actually made people stand up and away from his seat on a plane because he kept farting. I blew my money on a cinch bag, a pair of Gryffindor socks, some jewelry, and the aforementioned new notebook (it has a dragon on it).
     While on this trip, like the good little writer I am, I attended several writing panels and tried my best to take notes on them. One of said panels was about killing characters and during said panel, I drew a pretty great diagram about the process of becoming an author--as described by the people on the panel. Something about an inverted slope and Vaseline.
     However, when you're walking to and from panels and walking through aisle upon aisle of vendors who keep pulling you in with their fandom-related goodies, you're feet are going to start hurting eventually. When you're walking through the show floor in high heel boots, that moment comes a lot sooner than you might thing, which calls for several breaks throughout the day so you're feet literally do not fall of.
     During one of said breaks, I had to pull out my notebook to access another item. I set it to the side and checked my phone to make sure I was up to date on all the happenings in the real world that I really didn't care about that much because I was at Comic Con for crying out loud. Although, being in the middle of a crowd and having to move quickly in order to make a quick escape, I had to move quickly and in that moment, forgot to grab my bag, which also happened to be the biggest thing I was carrying all day. Now it's probably in a dumpster somewhere.
     So now I'm sitting in bed, flipping through the eleven pages that I managed to type before going to Comic Con and lamenting the fact that for some reason I feel the need to rewrite everything into the notebook,