It's six a.m. Do you know where your GK is?

If you guessed "not sleeping, even though it's a perfectly good hour for sleep"--you're right!

One of the perks (and, in this case, drawbacks) of working in books (especially if you're a fiction and nonfiction agent) is that you have to be a bit of a generalist: any material that can be bound in book form is, officially, your territory. This is great, in that you can learn about all sorts of neat things. But it can be stressful, too, when you're expected to know enough to have intelligent conversations on unfamiliar topics.

So my boss sprung something on me yesterday, just before I left for the Kid Lit party--which was awesome--it was held in the historic The Ginger Man on East 36th, and I met everyone from a digital rights coordinator at a major house who says that more than 25 percent e-book royalties would shut down publishing houses--but she's very nice and wants to work in editorial; to aspiring authors, to Scholastic editors to really bouncy children's librarians. In argyle. The invite said to look for the people in glasses--and, yes, that'd be about 50 percent of those present.

So, yes, just as I was walking out the door, my boss slipped in a little, Oh yeah, and tomorrow, we're courting a high-profile make-up author. 

Um. This normally wouldn't be a problem, but I haven't read about make-up trends since my days of reading Seventeen--which, of course, no one reads past the age of fourteen or so. Walking through midtown is often like walking through a fashion magazine (it is, after all, where all of the fashion-industry people work and hang out--and they're surprisingly nice; I've shared Bryant Park tables, when they were in short supply, with these ladies, and they say sweet, absurd things like, "Oh, do you work in fashion too?"), so a stroll along these blocks feels like a frugal, 3-d equivalent to picking up a magazine.

But I've been doing research: after all, today I need to converse about concealer. Enthuse about eye shadow. Pontificate about powder and be brilliant with regard to blush and its application in late 2010.

Apparently the current brow trend is "shaped and well-groomed"--but not too thin. Eye shadow is to be two to three coordinating shades, preferably brown, gray, or "silvery blue." Or, depending on the website, gold and bronze--or one solid, enormous color--or "bright"--or "understated."  Lips are supposed to be nude/pale pink and shiny. With smoky eyes. No, wait, you're supposed to wear no makeup and bright, matte red. No, wait--

Somehow, I don't imagine the editors of Glamour, Elle, Vanity Fair, Vogue, Allure and Marie Claire picture their readers taking bullet-pointed notes. With scratch-outs. And lots of big arrows. 

Imagine GK looking something like Mel Gibson in What Women Want, trying out all those beauty care products.

Okay, of course it's not that bad. For one thing, there have been no electrocutions via hair dryer. Even if it might be cool to read minds for awhile. 

But I have spilled a vial of Daisy over everything. (I'm not sure how my friend managed, but she got a sample large enough that it can easily spill.) I don't know if it's good or bad to smell like Marc Jacobs. Supposedly this is the scent all of the Penguin edit-staffers were wearing two years ago, so if you're wondering what the editing of, say, Bed of Roses smelled like--it wasn't roses, it was daisies. (Yes, bad joke. It's early.)

So how will GK start the day? With research. 

And then a big, flaky pastry, perhaps even with layers of something creamy and sweet, to celebrate the fact that I do not work in fashion and this research is (I hope!) a one-time thing. They can keep their make-up, eyelash curlers, tweezing and exfoliation. I just want books.