Or, something like that. My Pig Latin isn't that eatgrape.
THE CON IN WORDS
Every time I think I'm out, they pull me back in! (Okay, I'll admit, I don't do a great Al Pacino. But, to be fair, Al Pacino doesn't always do a great Al Pacino any more, either.)
For the last few months, I have been peopled out: I just couldn't summon the energy to accost complete strangers at science fiction conventions with my patent wonderfulness in order to convince them to buy the distillation of my wonderfulness imprinted on dead trees. ...Gee, when I put it that way, I wonder why anybody would go to a science fiction to sell books!
But, writers do, my friend. Writers do.
I was coaxed into going to the 2015 Ad Astra convention because Magic, Love, Time, Space, an anthology in which I had a short story, was being launched there. I was promised the opportunity to read from the story, which is always fun but wasn't entirely convincing. Then, I was promised cake. Naturally, I leapt at the chance to go.
Writers have no shame when it comes to free cake.
To my surprise, I had a great time. Part of that was because I got to hang out with writer friends I don't get to see often enough; for us, cons are like high school reunions without the memory of braces, awkward embraces and/or acne. Part of it had to do with the fact that a lot of fans are starting to recognize me from previous conventions. To be clear, they're not my fans, but just being in a room full of somebody's fans gives me hope that some day I may have one of my very own. Or, dare I dream, two?
Being a writer requires a certain amount of optimism. And, drugs. And, alcohol. Or, so I'm told. In fact, with enough drugs and alcohol, optimism becomes irrelevant. Or, so I have also been told. You know, by people who know things.
My thanks to Elizabeth Hirst, publisher at Pop Seagull Press (don't ask her how she came up with the name - you'll be groaning for weeks!) and editor of Time, Magic, Space, Love, for editing such a wonderful anthology and organizing such a great launch party. I'm almost motivated to return to participating in cons.
Almost...
THE CON IN PICTURES...AND WORDS (BECAUSE SUSAN SONTAG HAD A POINT)
When I first started going to cons, I was advised that if you didn't know where the event was being held, all you had to do was follow people who were in costume. Good advice. However, the person driving this car made it even easier than that.
As usual, the costumes were fantastic. When I asked Phil Bregmann why he chose to cosplay as a Canada goose, he quacked, "It's a symbol of the country, isn't it?" His companion cosplayer, Miranda Flumph, rolled her eyes and shook the water off her webbed feet in disdain. Good times.
Early Saturday afternoon, my camera battery died, and I wasn't carrying my spare. The horror!...THE HORROR! So, I had to improvise. This is my depiction of a man in an alien costume. Notice the attention to detail - his jaw really does unhinge, and it's got flecks of acidic spittle on it! Unless, this is one of the gender-reversed Harley Quinn cosplayers in attendance. It's hard to tell from this drawing.
I...may have to work on my improvisation skills.
A highlight of the con for me was the Saturday afternoon launch of Love, Space, Magic, Time, which, as you can see from the accompanying image, was well attended. Four of us read from our stories in the anthology, and there was a draw for baked goods. It was the largest group I have ever read to, and they laughed in all the right places! (Well, technically, if you write humour, wherever the audience laughs is the right place. They seemed to laugh a lot, though, so I can claim that there were a lot of right places.)
And, if that wasn't enough...
Yes! There was cake! The cake had the cover of Magic, Space, Love, Time on it, so it looked like this, only icingier!
On Saturday night, I retrieved the spare battery for my camera from my home, and on Sunday I was good to go again. As the image above indicates, the transition back to photography was a relatively smooth one...
LAST WORD
Preponderance.
