Scarlett Letters

I know it's time for WorldCon because I dreamed last night about my ex and about Jay Lake, who died several years ago. We were all at WorldCon. Dream logic kicked in at that point. The former texted me a map of the harbor (which was called Paradise Pier but we weren't at Disney) near the hotel with all the docks marked off where tall ships were moored. He didn't ask me to meet him there, but I told him I was on my way. I got stuck watching a movie for a bit--some Indiana Jone-ish thing--while I was on my way, and then got a little lost. When I got finally there, he was wearing a purple velvetish pirate shirt and leather belt and being all distant and unconcerned about me. (I'd want to believe otherwise, given our history, but we always hope that sort of thing when love is lost. I'm still working through that.) Somewhere in this mishmash dream, I encountered Jay, and that encounter was mostly about hugging him. He hugged me back, but it was with this sort of "I have to hug you" attitude that seemed to have more to do with a sort of parental feeling of obligation than friendship. How delightful all around. :: irony ::

So WorldCon is this weekend. When San Jose was chosen for the site, I was really pleased: a WorldCon close to home with the assurance that friends I loved would be there, as well as the prospect of possibly going to the Rosicrucian Museum among other local delights. But things have changed since the site selection. As I reflect on the last couple of WorldCons I've attended, they had their bright spots but, overall, weren't awesome for me. This seems to be the way with me and conventions these days: I go, have some fun but also have some moments of real discomfort or unpleasantness that overshadow most of the goodness. So that's why I'm not going to WorldCon this year, despite a growing desire to do so (which has more, I suspect, to do with watching friends head out and with FOMO than an actual desire to go).

I feel like maybe it's a closing of the chapter for me. Last year, I didn't think about it much; I couldn't afford to go to Helsinki, much as I wanted to, and so it was a financial fait accompli. This year? I could totally have done it and chose not to. And I'm kind of OK with that. There are other things capturing my attention and other places I need to put my energy. Let's see what comes of those.

So, basics first. ( If you know about the Hugos and the Sad Puppies, skip this bit )

The awards ceremony
The hosts for the evening were David Gerrold (as previously noted) and Tananarive Due. Tananarive paid tribute to Nichelle Nichols by cosplaying Lt. Uhura; she wore the red mini-dress very well indeed. David paid tribute to the last three Doctors Who by wearing Chucks, a jacket and a bowtie. The evening started with the handing out of fan awards; this year's TAFF award winner did the honors in a charming Austrian accent. Guest speakers during the evening included Connie Willis, because you can't have a Hugo Awards ceremony without her (she was funny and pointed all at once) and Robert Silverberg, who has attended every single Hugo Awards ceremony since the first, whose call for calm was quirky and entertaining (and still a cause for some unhappiness in small corners of fandom :: sigh :: ).

The first award that caused contention (and, I should note, contention that I wasn't aware of until later) was the Best Fan Writer Award. It went to Laura J. Mixon, who did an impressive, extensive investigative report on a blogger calling herself Requires Hate (among other noms de guerre), who had been targeting many writers for pretty significant abuse online. This award caused upset because some fans felt that because Mixon isn't a fan writer in the traditional sense--writing for fanzines and participating in other fan-ac--but a professional fiction writer, she didn't qualify for the category. Mixon gave a stirring acceptance speech, the best of the evening by far, and one that spoke not just to the issue she tackled in her article but to the larger drama that enveloped the Hugos this year as well.

You could feel the tension in the air once the pro awards began to be announced. I think the first No Award of the evening was given in the category of Best Editor, Long Form Best Related Work. The applause was like a crack of thunder, loud and long and enthusiastic. Now, as I noted earlier in this post, there were a LOT of fans who felt that bloc voting violates the spirit of the Hugo Awards; I am among them. When "No Award" was announced in this category, I knew that the applause was in support of this idea. It wasn't because the Puppies didn't win. It was because people believe that bloc voting for the Hugos isn't what the awards are about. Every vote for No Award wasn't against the people who were nominated. It wasn't nearly as much against a particular group of people who nominated but, more importantly, how they went about their nominating process.

As it turned out, No Award was given in four more categories as the evening progressed--a total of five in all, more than in any other year. More than ever in the accumulated history of the Hugo Awards. In the end, it should also be noted, Best Novel, Best Novelette, and the John W. Cambell Award for Best New Writer all went to people of color. For the first time in the award's history, Best Novel went to a novel translated into English. It was, in many ways, a historic year for Hugo.

What I thought about the Hugos and the whole Puppy thing
Predictably, I have some thoughts about this. They are not as deep or involved as the many others who have written on this subject. They are mine. Here they are:

1) I think that bloc voting and advocacy for same violate the spirit of the Hugos. I don't care who the bloc voting is advocating for; I think it's wrong, whether it's a slate dictated by one /V/o/x/ voice insisting that this is the list, the only list, to vote for, or a group of people doing it. Hugo voting should be a matter of personal taste and your vote should be your own, no matter what anyone else says.

2) There is a difference between advocating for a specific list of writers to be voted on in a specific way in specific categories, and recommending a bunch of works that you think people ought to read and consider when filling out a ballot. I agree with the second method; I abhor the first.

3) The world is changing, therefore science fiction and fantasy are changing. Voices from other cultures and upcoming generations are rising and providing different perspectives, telling different stories and raising different issues than the genre has seen before. This is a good thing. Change is what science fiction is about. Our fiction can and should reflect that change.

4) If work by a new voice is good enough to provoke discussion, if the writing is of remarkable quality, if it's entertaining, it should be recognized. Similarly, if a story comes out of science fiction's traditional veins and tells a remarkable story with remarkable quality and it's entertaining, it too should be recognized. But the work, whether by new voices or from SF's older traditions, must be remarkable in some way, whether that's a matter of ground-breaking ideas or brilliant prose. It should knock our socks off. We should have fun with it. It should be making us think in new ways. It should, as Adam-Troy Castro says, blow our minds so completely that we can't think about NOT giving it an award. I like and respect a number of the people who were nominated on the Puppy slates, but much of their work didn't do that for me, and so they didn't get my vote. The works that did--those works got my votes. That's how it should be.

5) Racism sucks. Sexism sucks. Exclusion sucks. None of these things should be part of our Hugo discussions, ever, unless they are part of the ideas in the works being discussed. Discussions about books and Hugo Awards should be about their quality, their ideas, their innovation, their ability to shine new light into old places, their ability to amuse us. The hurling of racial or sexist epithets at individuals or classes of people should not be part of the conversation. The idea that some SF is real and some is fake, the idea that some voices should be heard and others shouldn't be is despicable. Once such epithets appear in conversation, those who throw them are persona non-grata. They should be. The days when such language, such attitudes were acceptable is long past.

6) Read what you dig. Nominate what you dig. Don't judge what anyone else digs. If you disagree about a book's quality, disagree civilly. Discuss civilly. Perhaps even attempt to persuade--but civilly. And if you don't have anything nice to say about another person--remember what your mama said--don't say anything at all.


* George devoted a tag to his Hugo posts; you can go back months to read them all.

Friday at WorldCon started with a delicious, if belated, breakfast at a place called Sante just a couple of blocks from the convention center. A group of us (davidlevine, suricattus, her twinling and the twinling's daughter) walked over as early as we reasonably could. The air smelled of woodsmoke and the sky seemed overcast. It was a harbinger of things to come. The place was lovely, really, with a kind of country French feel to the decor--spare but elegant. I had a delicious meal--pancakes with fluffy raspberry foule (sp?). The conversation was fun. suricattus asked for discussion ideas for her upcoming panel; I asked for ideas for mine. Twinling's daughter showed off some of her artwork. davidlevine showed off the cover art for his upcoming novel from Tor. We talked about the return of the autograph book. Apparently, with the advent of ebooks, people have started keeping autograph books again. I signed one myself at my first panel, as had others at the table. Interesting phenomenon.

Somehow, though the food and company were both quite fine, I never managed to find particularly good humor. The server took a very long time coming to take our order; I was sugar crashing pretty hard; the air was taking its toll; and I very much wanted to get to a 10 AM beading workshop. With the meal coming so late, I wasn't able to leave until 10:10ish, and by the time I got to the convention center, though I hoofed it as hard as I could, the workshop was full and the door was shut.

Disappointed and frustrated, I looked at the pocket program to see what else I might drop in on. There was a panel on aging that interested me, so I sat in there and listened to three authors and neuroscientist discuss the science of aging, the research on same, and our preferences with regard to what kind of heroes we like to read about. Interesting discussion.

After it was over, I wandered around the convention center for a while when a friend stopped me and asked me if I was OK, saying that I didn't look well. At that point, I realized that I felt like a zombie. I stopped by program ops, told them I wouldn't make my 1 PM panel, went back to the room and slept until nearly 2 PM.

One of the high points of the day was my late lunch engagement. I met the delightful desperance, the always entertaining markjferrari, and the ever pleasant calendula_witch at Spencer's, the hotel's steak house. I believe we talked about Mark's latest escapades in the world of publishing. Chaz wrangled an invitation to my home (he had to twist my arm; really, there was violence). It was all very silly and exactly perfect. I believe that I owe Mark at least a meal, or possibly a bottle of good wine. I think we probably went until 3 or 3:30ish. My meal compatriots had to be off.

I don't actually remember what I did after lunch. Strolled the con a bit more? Attended more programming? No freaking' idea. What I do remember is that eventually it was time to go to bedii's memorial, to be held outside by a large Japanese sculpture at one end of the convention center. The air had gotten nearly toxic outside. All the smoke from the Okanogan and Upper Skagit Complex fires was taking its toll. The sky was yellow/brown, the sun a peachy-red ball, the air full of grit and mustiness. The convention (or the convention center, I'm not sure which) had put up warning signs about the air hazard. I was surprised, actually, that we were still going to do this out of doors, but the choice wasn't mine to make and so I went with it.

Apocalyptic Spokane: so smoky that the sky was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel. Click to embiggen.


We all met by the sculpture, a group of maybe 12 of us, and told stories about bedii, just remembering. It was a good thing and I'm glad I was there. At the same time, I couldn't stay there too long; the air began to really take a toll, and we headed inside after about 30-45 minutes. At that point, we all went our separate ways.

davidlevine and I headed over to the Book View Cafe party. David does key work with BVC and awesome people are involved with said effort, so being there was important. Awesome people included madrobins, suricattus and a bunch of names already mentioned above, plus a whole other crowd of lovely people. Mad made a three-tiered cake in honor of Vonda McIntyre featuring a sweet mermaid made of fondant. The cake was a delicious thing.

Our second stop was the Fairwood Press party with many more wonderful people in attendance. bjcooper was celebrating the release of her new collection of short stories, among others. Patrick Swenson always throws a good bash. I met a couple of people whose names I've known but never met in person. A good time.

In all the years I've known bjcooper, we've never taken a picture together. Voila! Problem solved.


As happens at these things, you don't realize that you're hitting the wall until you hit the wall. We met some friends and headed out, getting a lift back to the hotel at exactly the right moment. I didn't realize it until later, but my pink denim jacket came away smelling like smoke.

It was an interesting experience, WorldCon, this year. In hindsight, it feel like I was there and I wasn't, all at once. For me, it started off with a date SNAFU. The plan was that my friend BM was going to fly in from New York and we were going to drive across the state together. I thought she was arriving Tuesday night for a Wednesday morning departure. It turned out that she was arriving Wednesday night for a Thursday morning departure. That right there threw me. Now, here's the thing: I don't remember a conversation we clearly had about this timing, because when I double-checked, my hotel room reservation started on Thursday, not Wednesday. But I'd envisioned the convention start to finish, and I'd made plans as if I were arriving on Wednesday. All of this meant that I made plans that I had to cancel, which was disheartening. But I couldn't leave her stranded with no way to get across the state. So, from my perspective, the trip started late and weirdly.

We road-trip well together, BM and I, and it was a good traverse. There are those who say that Washington state, east of the mountains, is a whole lotta nuthin', but it's a constantly changing landscape with its own sere beauty and I enjoy the journey. I always enjoy stopping to see "Grandfather Cuts Loose the Ponies," also called Wild Horse Monument. The view at the link is different than the view that most folks (including me) generally get--from below and away, where you look up and see the ponies high on a bluff against the sky. It's beautiful regardless of your perspective and a lovely stop for viewing and a stretch of the legs. You also get a beautiful view of the Columbia River from above, and the striated rock walls on the other side of the water.

Click the pics to embiggen.




We also stopped in George, Washington (yes, really) for lunch. We ate at a food truck where the Mexican food was plentiful and delicious. We met a couple who have spent the last two years living out of a blue-and-white Shasta trailer, a tiny thing that they've used to travel the country. They were headed in the opposite direction, off to Seattle. I gave them advice on a couple of things to see in town (they wanted to see Pike Place Market and the Space Needle; I told them about the Ballard Locks and the food trucks in Westlake Center).



After lunch, it was on to Spokane. See the next rock for details (to be posted later today sometime).

So this past weekend was Potlatch. It was also the 10th Annual Science Fiction & Fantasy Short Film Festival. Being the sort that likes having her cake and eating it, too, I arranged to attend the convention on Friday evening and Saturday, and then the festival recap on Sunday.

JB was in town visiting, and I had to work, so I cut out of the day job at about 4 PM and we headed over to the hotel just in time to catch folks departing for dinner. Our party consisted of myself, JB, Vonda McIntyre and Amy Thomson. I haven't seen either Vonda or Amy in quite some time, so this was a lovely way to catch up. Vonda talked about the making of the movie based on her novel The Moon and the Sun. We had delicious Greek food at Costas, a University District institution. Afterward, we went back to the hotel and retired to the con suite for the duration. Discussion included the underestimation of Stephen King as a writer and The Hunger Games as media satire. I met Wendy Wagner, one of the editors at Lightspeed, who was just delightful and whom I hope to maintain as a friend. I was also reminded that youth is the sort of thing one is eventually cured of but, while in its grip, the young are just going to be, well, young. And that's all I'll say about that.

Saturday we got a late start and didn't get to the hotel until lunchtime. We caught a group that included mcjulie, randy_byers, Jerry & Suzle (they are forever ampersanded), Glenn Glazer and a couple of other people whose names I missed, and headed over to a new Korean place on the Ave. (Randy reports that it's called Seoul Tofu House & Korean BBQ.) I had the beef with broccoli, which was . . . acceptable for U District fast food. The company was much better. Getting to listen to Jerry talk about the bands he saw in NYC in the 1970s was a blast. He's history on the hoof in this respect, having seen some pretty major groups before they really hit. On the way back, Julie was talking about Rise of the Planet of the Apes, which got me going on to Randy about how it was a terrific film until the big battle toward the end. I've already written about that so I won't repeat it here, but I realized that I may need to do more writing about it because there's no doubt that the proliferation of epic cinematic battles colors my perceptions and expectations of movies now in a pretty significant way.

We got back from lunch a little late, past 1 PM, and so came in late for the panel, Living in a Fantasy World: The 21 Century Appeal of Fantasy Fiction, which I admit, at this point, I don't remember much about. I do remember feeling a little as though whole chunks of conversation about the topic were being missed in favor of the panelists' biases; I know that suricattus had Opinions about the discussion. The next panel, Women Destroy Science Fiction: Not Again! left a greater impression on me because Eileen Gunn was furious that we were still even having this conversation (and rightly so, I think). Vonda chimed in from the audience with relevant historical discussions of women's work in the genre. Debbie Notkin and Kate Schaeffer, the other panelists, both brought good and interesting perspectives.

I skipped the 3 PM panel in favor of a little dealer's room shopping.

At 4 PM, I was on the panel What Dreams Need Come: A Task List for Visionaries, which was supposed to use Ursula K. LeGuin's National Book Awards acceptance speech as a jumping off point to discuss the kinds of SF and fantasy we need in the current, toxic political and business climate. Instead, the moderator decided to make it a discussion about self publishing versus Big Publishing, which I found enormously frustrating. As the only publishing pro on the panel, I found myself in the position of speaking about the business with people who had Opinions but not much in the way of practical knowledge. When I quoted directly from the program book description of the panel's intended direction and asked the moderator his thoughts about it, he clammed up and said nothing. I couldn't tell if he was baffled, embarrassed, or just not interested in actually having the programmed discussion. (Later, someone suggested that he may not actually have read the description beforehand, though I saw that he had prepared notes.) Someone in the audience tried to relate the discussion to the weekend's Book of Honor; that attempt at redirecting the discussion in a relevant direction also failed, though not for lack of support from me. I surrendered to the inevitable, carried on with the conversation that the mod wanted to have and let it go. I suppose I ought not to have challenged him; on the other hand, I'm too much of a top, I suppose, to have let it pass. Given what prep I did for the programmed discussion, I was pretty frustrated with the panel. I did the best I could, which is about all I could have done.

Dinner was in the hotel bar in the company of Nisi Shawl, and Mary Kay and Jordin Kare, and a fine and congenial meal it was (except for the burned dessert, which we kvetched about enough that the waiter gave it plus another to us for free).

After dinner, I attended the Trivia and Chocolate Fling, from which I emerged with plenty of chocolate in proof of my movie trivia prowess. From the auction I emerged with a beautiful African painting of an elephant and birds, which will be framed for hanging in my home sometime within the next couple of weeks. It's bright and beautiful and has great humor.

JB departed the con around 4 PM to see some friends perform in a band; he hadn't seen them in years and wanted to take the opportunity. So after the auction, I spent the balance of the evening ain the con suite. By the time he returned, I'd heard EE and RH jamming, playing hammer dulcimer and fiddle respectively. I'd been deep in a discussion about the efficacy of speech versus visual symbology as a communication method. And I'd avoided another awkward encounter with Youth Flying Its Flag. We stayed at the con until somewhere around 11:30ish and then headed out.

Sunday was SFFSFF, about which more in another post.

All in all, it was a good couple of days at the con.

So my birthday was on Thursday. I decided that what I wanted was a long leisurely weekend for myself, so I worked on Thursday and then took Friday off.

Friday, varina8 and I went to Olympus Women's Spa, there to be pampered to our heart's content. I got a body wrap and a massage. For the wrap, they slather nutritious mud all over you--it smelled like dog biscuits to me--and then wrap you in several layers of insulation, then lay you on a heated table to bake. I felt a little bit like a baked potato--but my skin felt terrific when we were done. The massage was excellent; the woman who worked on me gave me some excellent tips for maintaining the positive effects of the massage over the next couple of weeks. I plan to take her instructions seriously.

Yesterday morning, I participated in a panel discussion--Writers in Fantasy--at the EMP's Myth & Magic Faire. Besides me, the roster included Greg Bear, Robin Hobb and J.A. Pitts (our own bravado111). WE had a good, fairly wide-ranging discussion. Greg was our moderator, which meant that we got into the historical roots of the genre as well as its earlier incarnations in the 1920s and 30s. The audience was pretty responsive; they stayed and were interested so I think we were pretty successful. The marketer in me kept thinking that our discussion ought to be a little more pop-culturey than it was, given that we weren't talking to a convention crowd; it was more mainstream fans. But I still think it went well. We had lunch at the Armory, and then I had to take off a) because the meter on my car was running out and because b) I had a date with EB for some tidepooling.

Yesterday was one of the low-tide days here, when the tidepooling provides wonderful glimpses of sea life. I drove out to West Seattle, and then E and I went to Constellation Park, where I've never been before. It's a shingle beach beyond the end of Alki Point. Unfortunately, by the time we got there, though the tide was low, a lot of the beach was dried out because it was so hot and sunny (and beautiful--really, Seattle is incomparable in summer time). In the end, there wasn't much to see except rocks shrouded by drying seaweed. We ended up walking back to Alki, getting cold drinks, sitting on the beach and chatting. We ultimately went back to her place, sat under the awning in the backyard and just talked for a while. It was a glorious afternoon of being lazy and pleasant with a friend.

This morning, I'm Task Girl. I have Tasks to do and I'm checking them off my list one by one. And this was one of my tasks: to catch up on LJ and keep my presence, well, present.

Happy Summer Day, everyone! Go out and enjoy!

Norwescon: Noise, crowds, friends, parties, the masquerade, panels, a game show, business conversations, general madness.

Here's my modest Flickr set from the weekend.

At this point, what I remember in detail is sharing quality time with my roommate, conversations about the current Sekrit Project, about the future Sekrit Project, conversations about crowd anxiety and job PTSD, the history of fan fiction, epic fantasy, weddings and future travel (as in, where I'm going, not where technology is going), and more. I think the main issue is that I was very, very tightly scheduled on Saturday which, in the wake of two pretty stressful weeks at work, exacerbated every anxiety, every stressor in the arsenal. So while it was a good weekend, it tripped a number of switches that I was unprepared for. I did a lot of dodging of crowds and a lot of single-minded walking from hither to yon with limited social interaction.

I didn't like this feeling. Conventions are usually a time for visiting with friends I don't often see, for having the occasional business conversation, and for indulging the geek side of my personal Force. The weekend flew by, feeling like it was over before it began. I had to sort of survey the art show rather than strolling through to enjoy it; I made sure I saw art posted by friends and acquaintances, tried to see stuff by artists with whom I was unfamiliar, but it was a pretty quick jaunt. I spent minimal time in the dealer's room and purchased nothing. (One book dealer was out of the one book I was actually interested in, a collection of Marge Piercy short stories.)

I did have quality time with some key folks, including Peggy Rae Sapienza, in from the East Coast, flogging the DC in 2017 WorldCon bid (I presupported, but I'm going to have to presupport Helsinki in 2017, too, because -- HELSINKI!). I also got to visit with calendula_witch, markferrari, the_monkey_king, joycemocha, mistymarshall (in from Europe!), Janet Freeman-Daily, Craig English, and to chat with Clint Boomer, Jeff Grubb, Diana Pharaoh Francis, and a number of writers I'm currently working with on the Sekrit Project.

I did get to a couple of panels (one on giving good alien, and one on putting gods into fantasy fiction). I attended the Masquerade and participated in the half-time show, a game show called Just a Minute; I was buttonholed later in the weekend by someone who said they enjoyed my performance--gratifying, unexpected. Though I came in second by one single point, I walked away with the prize because the winner, one davidlevine, wouldn't be around to use it. The prize was a membership to Crypticon, a horror-media convention over Memorial Day weekend. I may go for a day.

And my panel conversations were good ones. Putting the Epic in Epic Fantasy went very well, I thought, with Bradley Beaulieu as the moderator asking smart and specific questions. And the panel about the history of fan fiction was fun. I was able to share copies of zines from the 1980s, as did another panelist (who brought many more, some of which I own). It was fun to see kids who hadn't been born yet paging through my artifacts. And I learned about some current fanfic resources that I was previously unaware of.

I didn't get a single glimpse of the weekend's guest of honor, Michael Moorcock, which was rather disappointing. He did some signings and some panels, all of which I just missed.

So while it was a good weekend in many ways, it was something of a mixed bag. Next year's GOHs are Boris Vallejo and George R. R. Martin. It will be a madhouse and I'm already trying to decide if I'm going to go or if I'm going to skip, given the trouble I had with the crowds this year. We'll see.

1) Vague-booking about social drama: The phrase "I thought this was a safe space" is often--not always, but often--deployed as a guilt trip when someone says something or does something inappropriate and is called on it. That shit just makes me crazy. And it makes me crazier when it's used by someone whom I thought was either more straightforward or less manipulative than their use of the phrase indicates they really are.

2) Weather: The entire rest of the country is being challenging by extreme weather. In Seattle we've got sub-freezing temperatures, which is pretty extreme for this part of the nation, but it's been dry and clear. The fact is we're getting off pretty easy compared to, for example, New York, Pennsylvania, and so on. This doesn't lessen the fact that it's freaking cold and I'm wearing more layers than I would prefer.

3) Cat-sitting: My cat-sitter has sent out a card announcing that she's retiring at the end of June. I knew it would come--she's an older woman--but I'm really sad. She's been a fixture of my time in Seattle, and though our relationship has mostly consisted of phone calls, I'll miss her. I've contacted her about two more kitty visits before she retires, and I've put into motion the obtaining of what I hope will be an appropriate farewell gift for her.

4) Making things: I recently picked up a knitting loom and am nearly done with my first scarf, a stretch of brown and pink wool that I'm looking forward to wearing. I don't know whether or not I'll keep up with this, but it's been a fun project, and I expect to finish it this weekend. We'll see what happens from here.

5) Foolscap: The convention was last weekend. It marks a year since my last car accident and the start of my experiment in carless living. We know how the experiment turned out. It was a fun weekend, but the convention came up so quickly, with so little fanfare from the concom, that it was an unexpected occupation of my time and I'm behind on a number of projects as a result. This weekend, also crazy busy--but at least planned busy-ness, will be partly spent catching up. But I'm going to be behind in stuff for a while yet.

1) Norwescon was great. As usual I spent time with a lot of awesome people, old friends and new, and didn't have nearly enough time with any of them. I did two panels, three critiques, and finished a short story that I've been bashing away at for a month (on which more in another LJ post, I suspect). I attended two panels, the Fannish Fetish Fashion Show, and the Molly Lewis/Tony & Vixy concert. I had some good meals and great conversations. I am crispy, but I'm still here.

2) Congratulations to all the Hugo nominees, especially kijjohnson, jaylake, maryrobinette, and grrm. And congratulations all the editors nominated for awards, as well as all the editors whose authors are nominated, because every time an editor is acknowledged for his or her work, the importance of that work is emphasized, and in this new self-publishing world of "crowd-sourced editing," quality that results from the application of training and experience cannot be over-praised.

3) At some point this week, I want to write a post about invisibility vs visibility as it relates to weight. My mileage will almost certainly vary from others', but I had some fascinating experiences this weekend that I really want to unpack and talk about.

4) I came home with three new books, two of which I got at the Baen party as freebies, one of which was the new edition of papersky's novel Farthing, which I've never read and very much want to. I also came home with a hard copy of a magazine--Mike Resnick's new invitation-only, bimonthly magazine Galaxy's Edge. (Hardcopy. How old-skool of me.) The line-up in the premier edition is impressive and I look forward to reading it.

5) It is April 1. With the exception of this post (because I suspect I emptied my credibility store with my stunt several years back), I strongly urge skepticism toward anything you read online today.

Post-script item: I missed the premieres of Doctor Who and Game of Thrones. I pout in poutiness about it.

Yesterday was both my last day at Microsoft and my first day at Foolscap/Potlatch. I wrote a little bit of reflection about work on Thursday night, but before I get into the convention report, I want to write a little more about the last day of work.

( Sentimental about work )

And then I was off to Redmond Town Center for Foolscap/Potlatch. I have said for years that when I go to a convention, I can't walk ten steps into the hotel without seeing someone I know. That was true yesterday. Ten steps in, who do I see but PRS, an East Coast friend whom I had no idea would be attending. I was delighted to see her. We set up dinner, and then went our separate ways.

I attended readings by Vonda McIntyre and Mark Ferrari. Vonda read three short pieces of fiction, one of which was published in Nature, a bleak, dystopian future piece about a post-natural world. The second was a story about the future of pet cloning that was both funny and true. The third was a partial, the first thousand words of a new story about extreme body modification that had a sense of humor about it amidst the macabre descriptions. Mark read a chapter from his new novel. I've heard other bits from this book. Someone needs to buy and publish this thing now. Between the two readings, I had drinks with Vonda, Eileen Gunn, John Berry, Folly Blaine, and a couple of other people. A group of us--PRS and her friend Dawn, davidlevine, kateyule, calendula_witch, and markferrari--went to dinner at a very new restaurant in Redmond called Hugo's, where the menu is organic, gluten-free, whole foods, and all delicious. I had the chicken marsala--very flavorful. PRS had the mac-and-cheese, which had a tinge of smoky mesquite to it that was fascinating. Other folks reported that the pork scallopini was delicious. Must go back again . . . whenever it is that I'm in Redmond again.

We returned to the hotel for the annual chocolate social, where I got to meet and chat with Nancy Pearl. She remembered me from our meeting when she interviewed papersky at the University Bookstore. We all attended the briefest of brief opening ceremonies, and then adjourned to the evening's panel. It was me, Nancy, Tom Whitmore, and davidlevine discussing "Where Lieth the Line Between Science Fiction and Fantasy?" The conversation was wide-ranging and quite dynamic. Whitmore's perspective is always fascinating; he's got an encyclopedic knowledge of the genre and its history, and was both erudite and entertaining on the subject. He and David bounced off of each other about history, and David talked about what such lines meant to him from a writer's perspective. Nancy talked about what such differences meant to recommending books to readers. I talked about my experience as a college student taking a class on same, and about the question from a business perspective a bit. I think it was a well-balanced discussion and people did seem to enjoy it. I certainly did.

At that point it was 10 PM and I had to hit the road. I'm not staying at the hotel and, with its impeccable timing, the city of Seattle has chosen this weekend to close one of the two main bridges between Seattle and the Eastside for the weekend at 11 PM, so I wanted to travel before that happened. The bridge is now closed for the duration, which means I'll be commuting the Long Way to the convention today and tomorrow. It was that, or spend more than $200 on lodging at a time when I'm ever-so-briefly between jobs and just returned from a trip. The gas and energy for commuting are cheaper than a hotel room so driving is my solution for the weekend. As for sleep, well, I'll sleep when I'm dead.

Other brief notes:
--The Freddie Baer Potlatch T-shirt is gorgeous this year. I wasn't a fan of last year's design, but this year? Oh yeah.
--I may be reading poetry tonight as part of Eileen Gunn's poetry program at the convention. Guess I oughtta print out some stuff to take with me.
--Zeke's chosen form of destruction last night was to disrupt my sleep every two hours or so. What a delight it is to have a kitten. ::sigh::