Hi, it's Rhys, posting on a Tuesday night as I'm off to New York at crack of dawn and will have no time for computers tomorrow. I'm going to the Edgars. This is our Oscar party, the night when all the glitterati of our industry get together. This year the banquet of 750 people is sold out and an array of celebrities are coming to help make the evening more festive. Al Roker, the NBC weatherman, is our MC. We've Dave Barry, Stephen King, Donald Westlake, Nelson De Mille and a cast of thousands, as they say.
I'm one of the presenters this year, which is almost as nerve wracking as being a nominee. Maybe more nerve wracking as I am guaranteed a trip up to the stage and have to handle a china statue. Plenty of opportunities for tripping and dropping things. Also I'm wearing a white beaded top so I just hope that no red sauces are included in the meal.
When I've been a nominee at one of these banquets I have discovered that I know in advance whether I'm going to win or not. If I eat my meal with gusto, I obviously sense that I don't have a chance at the award. When I can't seem to swallow my food and spend the evening pushing it around my plate, then I've usually won. I'll test this theory watching some of the nominees on Thursday!
Actually it is cruel and inhuman to make nervous nominees work their way through several courses of half a field cut into a salad, rubber chicken, plastic broccoli and pink or brown mouse. Maybe it will surprise me and be better. I can't remember what it was like last time. I was a nominee, I was nervous. I couldn't eat--oh, and I didn't win. Bang goes that theory!
I'll report when I have juicy gossip to share!