Nobody, darnit

There was actually cider tonight! I'm not a beer or wine person, so I actually got tipsy, and hopefully didn't embarrass myself too much with tipsy babbling. This week's instructor was Nalo Hopkinson, who taught kehrli last year, so my one conversation with her consisted of gossiping about our beloved mutual acquaintance. I also got to be in the same room as Vonda McIntyre, and actually talk to her (albeit in my tipsy mode, barging into a preexisting conversation to babble about the aquarium tv screen thing on the wall.) I always see her name on guest lists at cons I'm at, but I never actually see her. I was starting to doubt her existence.
The ride home consisted of csinman reading excerpts from his and Keffy's old fiction. (written, I believe at fourteen and twelve years old, respectively.) The sky's sweet sterling blood. That's all I have to say.

Just got back from a magnificent weekend writing retreat on the coast. Loads of adventures. Pictures may be forthcoming.
In no particular order there were:

A vertical wall coated in sea anemones, sea stars, fish eggs, gooseneck barnacles and other stuff, all topped by a pair of bald eagles.

Caddis fly larvae.

Certain notorious personalities drawing on other notorious personalities' notorious underpants.

Surviving Aberdeen.

The Star Wars Store.

No internet for four days. When we got there, someone said, "Michael Jackson died," and we had no way to confirm if this was true or an internet rumor. For four days, he was Shroedinger's Jackson.

A bunch of people groping up a hill in darkness.

A broken couch/futon.

A highly scientific study to see if whipped cream applied to a nettle rash lessens swelling.

An incredibly ghetto Twinkie.

I convinced my dad to buy a day pass to Norwescon. Someday, I want him to attend one of the smaller cons with me (Valhallacon, I'm hoping) but he wasn't doing anything for Easter, and so one of my big guilts of Norwescon (missing Easter with family) was assuaged this way.

We started with a panel I personally was excited about --daily lives of editors with Patrick Swenson and Gordon Van Gelder, and then one on story beginnings and another on endings. They were topics I already knew about, but they're still interesting, and I knew it would be good for my dad to hear.

On our way upstairs after lunch, we ran into a gaggle of giggling, shrieking people in black. Lisa Mantchev and minions, filming her book trailer. I'd volunteered earlier for it, but had forgotten. One of the women looked at me and said, "you need hair." I promptly pulled off my hoody, letting all ten zillion pounds of hair fall out. But she just meant one of the bright fake hairpieces Lisa bought. Mine was fuchia and matched my socks! I played Bertie acting out a couple of play-formatted lines from the book. Then all the women got in front of the camera with our ARCs and squealed. Then, my dad, who had been watching, said, "now the men have to scream!" Well everyone thought that a grand idea, and so they dragged dad in with the other men present, and they all stood stoicly holding their copies of Lisa's book.

I took dad to the last bit of the Fairwood social, and even that went well. Dad's not one for crowds, but we ended up hanging out with Cami Miller in the otherwise empty bedroom, and talked about Worldcon. After an hour chilling in a side hall, we had dinner with Spencer and Chrissy. Everything went as marvelously as I could have hoped.

I keep learning stuff about my dad. He believes in ESP!

I'm going to the Paranormal Bender Tour tonight --University Bookstore at 7pm. I was looking up the time online, and found Seattle Weekly's listing first. The entirety of the copy is: "Zombies and vampires figure in the young adult novels by Mario Acevedo, Mark Henry, Caitlin Kittredge, and Cherie Priest."

YA, huh? I seem to remember the last Mark Henry reading involving him leaning in conspicuously into the mike to whisper "gangbang." Not that I have any problem with kids reading about gangbangs*, or guys getting ripped apart by zombies instead of having gangbangs.

* I read Stephen King's It when I was like, 12. Kids reading about kids having gangbangs!

I really, really looked forward to driving home around the peninsula. I used to go out there all the time as a kid, and there's so much beauty and fascinating things to be found. The hitch was that the Keystone ferry run is a tricky one, so they've witched to a really small ferry that requires reservations. So we had to be in Port Townsend and 6:45. We estimated the trip would take 3.5 hours of driving, so leaving at 1 should give us plenty of time. If we arrived early, we could hang out in Port Townsend and have ice cream.

We woke up to 4 inches of snow on the ground.

I got up early because I'd promised Nancy Kress I'd play chess with her. Before I did that, though, I took one last walk to the World's Biggest Spruce. Thin tree limbs bent over the trail, weighed down with snow. Before I discovered that a simple tap shook off the snow and sent the branches springing upright, I ducked under them and got snow up my butt. I'm glad I went though--the snow was pristine and the marsh frosted in a thin, uneven layer of ice.

Back in the lounge, I think I just managed to eat a Clif bar before Nancy showed up. Her portable chess board was a warped sheet of card stock, and we had to use two pennies for pawns, but those pennies murdered me in that game. She had a solid barrier of pawns in the center, which I managed to break up too late. Fortunately, we're both terrible at chess, and both made boneheaded moves. But when I was on the offensive and had her cornered, I skipped an obvious move that would have sacrificed my bishop to try something else. I got a little overconfident, and then I was screwed.

Nancy's great. At breakfast, she asked us what sort of stuff we liked to read, saying she wanted to know what the young people were reading--magazines, new writers, old writers. She knew exactly how to stimulate interesting and informative conversation. She does a lot of teaching at Clarion and other workshops, and she's wonderful at it.

Later, snowballs were thrown at tbclone47 and tiny snowmen were made.

When we finally left, there was just a little slush on the road. Just a little ways up Highway 101, we found a rusty, burnt-out old...place. We saw a few that were in use, but couldn't tell what it was. It consisted of a tall, silo-like fornace, with a shaft leading to the top, presumably to dump material in for burning. There's an open covered area, and that's about it. I speculated it might be a charcoal-making place. If anyone knows what it is, let us know. Anyway, it was full of upside-down cars, amusing graffiti and random bits of mechanical equipment. There was a bathroom with a shower that had been used for target practice.

We passed Kalaloch, one of my favorite places in the world, but instead visited Ruby Beach, with its sea stacks and maze of driftwood.

Then we went through Forks.
None of us like Twilight, so we thought it funny to dab glitter on our faces and take our picture with the Welcome to Forks sign. I'd wondered if Forks would cash in on Twilight, since it's one of the poorest, most desolate towns in the state. I didn't realize how much they'd cash in. The lady at the Chamber of Commerce was basically Chief Fangirl, and from the posters and "We <3 Edward and Bella" signs everywhere, you'd find it hard to tell there was anything else in Forks. Chelsea bought some of the homemade-looking souvenir stickers. We got a packet with a map of relevant places in town, and a quiz. Every place in town has Bella Burger or Twilight Sandwich. Reportedly, we're not the only people to run through there with glitter. Keffy noted it was a strange game, with the girl at the Subway pretending we weren't fans (who were pretending to be fans) and us pretending we weren't there to act like idiots.

PS If vampires really did base their school-going habits on whether it was sunny or rainy in the morning, they'd be screwed, because the weather changes CONSTANTLY. We cycled through rain, sun, snow and hail just in the half hour ro so we were there.

We did indeed miss our ferry, but Audrey, Chelsea and I wandered through Port Townsend, looked at masses of frilly white sea anenomes, and had ice cream. All the shops were closed by that point, and it's a good thing, because there's lots of fun, affordable stuff in that town.

We didn't get home until midnight, and we had to dodge a drunk driver around Alger, but other than that, I've had the most fun I've had in a long time.

My companions took ten zillion photos, so hopefully those will follow.

Thanks to Presidents Day, I actually get a day off to recuperate post-con!!
And so, I get to make zillions of posts as I think of them.
And now, something I forgot to mention in my last post. When we stopped for lunch and gas somewhere between Pasco and Yakima, I ran into the convenience store to get batteries for Keffy's radio tuner. The cashier saw my hair sticking out the bottom of my coat and commented admiringly on its length. Behind me, a guy parroted her comment and added, "I'll bet your husband likes to brush it for you. Does he? Does your husband like to brush it?"
I glared, tried to think of something appropriate to say, and cowardly bypassed, "I'm a lesbian," to settle pathetically on, "No comment."
Speaking of long hair and bad social relations, I was waiting for a panel to start, when a guy behind me commented, "you took down one of your braids." Now, Friday, I had my hair in two french braids. Saturday, I put part of it up in my usual octopus clip, and braided two small segments, letting the rest hang loose. It was a totally different hairstyle, and I said something to that effect with mild irritation. As I turned back to what I was doing, I realized that guy was probably trying to flirt with me, he wasn't obnoxious or bad-looking, and I should have been quicker on the draw. But by that time, the panel started, and I never got a chance to apologize to him.

So Radcon really was great. I met new people and got to know others better. At least one person got moved from the "industry" LJ friends filter to the "know" filter which means I've eaten dinner/gotten drunk/played a game of some sort with you.
I danced to 80s/house remixes and learned that Samuel Delany has a fingernail biting fetish, which adds all new layers of meaning to Dhalgren. My computer temporarily became Spencer's computer. I spent much of the Saturday Small Press party in a heap of (fully clothed!) writers on a bed. Pictures may surface on the internet. I was immobilized against the headboard, and somewhere beyond the barrier of five bodies and a shot and a halr of rum, a bunch of people were snapping pictures left and right. I felt like a porn star or a crime scene.

I had awful food in the hotel restaurant, and yummy truffles in the Small Press party.

anghara lured in new recruits to fandom from the local middle school.

And then, I was going to list the books I bought, but I realized I left the bag o'books in Spencer's car.

i'm at my first ever Radcon, sharing a room with specimusprime (Who went to bed at a sensible hour and is now lying on his bed reading,) and kehrli who, along with myself, did not go to bed at a reasonable hour, and is sensibly passed out. I slept for like three hours, and am now posting about it.
This is a party con, and I've done well despite it. At the party last night, the room (which was occasionally but not always packed to sardine-level) was full of people I knew, so I actually didn't cower in a corner for once. I had a few early drinks, realized everyone else was on their way to getting smashed, and stepped back to enjoy the show. I love herding drunk people. They're always so grateful. Keffy and I ended up in the lobby with our drunk companions, with a silent Adult Swim playing on the wall behind us. By 2:30, when we were all brain dead and staring at the post-Adult Swim banality on the tv, I decided it was time for bed, even though I was still full of energy (and caffeine-free all day, even!) Thus, three hours sleep.

(PS. Spencer wants me to tell you his proudest moment was when he almost kissed Jay Lake on stage.)

I've mostly been to smaller, writing/book oriented cons, and the stratification here is incredibly visible. There's a lot of people I know, but they're a very small percentage compared to the gamers and costumed high schoolers. (Last night a couple of scantily-clad minors asked mcjulie if they could use her credit card to buy them a room--they'd pay her in cash.)
The panel rooms are tiny--literally just a hotel room with the furniture cleared out--and they don't need any more space than that.

Just got back from Foolscap. I had a lot of fun this year, probably because I'm at the point where I know people well enough to just hang out. The panels were kind of...meh. But I suspect I'm also getting to the point where I've seen what can be seen at panels. That said, Keffy did great on his panels, and I had a lot of fun in the Typography panel--which surprised me with its large attendance. We asked the audience what they wanted out of the panel--were they designing stuff? Everyone agreed that they just wanted to see passionate people talk about something they knew nothing about. Later, David Levine and Tom Whitemore were making jokes about Kern County, CA. Was the town of Leading there? Keffy looked baffled, and I was happy.
The con was smaller this year, and the Guest of Honor--Esther Friesner--had a lot more contact with everyone. Even at Foolscaps in the past, the GoH has most always been a distant figure. At least to little old me. :-)
Anyways, Esther's an adorable, twisted little old lady.

One of the many useful things that happened at iron Springs is that Spencer Ellsworth, an agent for the Lori Perkins Agency, did pitch role-plays with us. Being the severe introvert that I am, I hate live pitches more than anythng. Hate hate hate. But this was pitching to a guy in my writing group who I've never not seen looking like he just got out of bed. He doesn't represent friends, so it's not I even needed to impress him, and we were surrounded by a bunch of freaks saturating the room with dirty jokes.
Nevertheless, I had shadows of anxiety. Jay yelled at me, "think on your feet!" but I hid in the bathroom while i condensed my Martinian epic down to a paragraph.

Jay showed us all how easy it was, being casual and conversational. Pitching would be way easier if we could all have him sitting behind us twisting all our awkward blahdy blah into a sentence of pure gold.

When my turn came, I was still internally fussing over how I'd explain how three princesses, a prince, a sorta god-king and a doomed empire would get squished into a few words without sounding stupid. But, after the first sentence, Spencer started asking questions and things clicked into place. I covered one princess first, and then he was all, well what about xxx? and I could say, "well, there's princess #2 who..." I went brain-dead when I got asked about how the god-king thing worked, or how he could make his eldest daughter a man without using magic. Fortunately, San shouted out, "like Japan! Hatsheput!"

Why can't everyone have co-pitchers? :-P