I went to a romance writers’ conference and all I got was a case of vertigo.

Last week, I attended the national conference for romance writers.

It was terrific, except for one minor problem.

Holy smokes, the hotel was TALL.

I was okay, as long as I didn’t look down.

In the next picture, you’ll see a shot from my room.

The view made me break into a flop sweat, but I didn’t cry like a little girl.

But the minute I looked down, or up, I squealed like a little baby.

Have you ever had that feeling where you feel like you’re going to topple over a railing?

The nice thing about writing conferences is you’re likely to land in a workshop about crafting a sex scene.

That topic always distracts me from my troubles.

Oh, mommy. Why oh why do they make buildings this tall?

Don’t these people understand the  concept of gravity?

Unfortunately, I made the mistake of talking to fellow writers, agents, and editors.

I asked if they felt the compulsion to fall 23 stories into a sex scene workshop.

They didn’t, but they did feel the compulsion to stand FAR away from me.

And that is why I didn’t make any friends at the conference.

Can you tolerate heights without making a fool of yourself?