This recap is so punk rock

UPDATE: We've tracked down one photo (shout-out to Tim and Monica Marx). Unfortunately, it's of me.

Punk Rock Fiction is over, with a minimum of hitches, and I'm really not exaggerating here, considering I'd flown in from Minnesota only a little over 24 hours earlier, only to be dropping into the beehive which is the Curse of the Promoter. (I guess I'm a promoter now, and Jason Amos would know). It shows that I'm a first-timer, since it was only today that I realized I forgot to do two crucial things at the reading, basics which any shameless huckster worth her salt would have known: send around an e-mail list, and take pictures, which explains why the space above this post is a boring blank void of nothingness and I fail at life. People are visual learners, after all, and we musn't disappoint them. Arianna Huffington said it, not me.

It's a shame, too: I could have gotten some good ones of Jason lighting his novel manuscript on fire and stepping on it.If I track down one of my dutiful staff photographers, perhaps I'll have some to post after all.

There'll probably be another one, probably not for several months, and not until I stop hyperventilating over this one and make some progress on my own novel. But anyway, I'd like to send out one more blogospheric thank you to Jason, Marina Kaganova, Amy Dupcak and especially David Hollander, whose 8-minute alliterative masterpiece about the F train was a literary freak-out. I'm lucky to know you all.