Lilith Saintcrow

Home again. I know a lot of blog posts lately have started out with that line, but it’s so true. I am not a travel person. I like being at home, writing. It’s what I’m most comfortable with. And the crippling shyness doesn’t help with smooth traveling. On the other hand, I was told several times this weekend that people wouldn’t guess I am shy, which means my Front of Bubbly Extroversion is working.

I am glad to go back to being me.

But first, before we get into Orycon proper, a little more Bollywood for you. This is where they REALLY found AC Slater from Saved By The Bell. (They had to surgically alter him a tad for YA TV, though.) Still, the cowboy boots, Hawaiian shirts, and bad leisure suits? CHECK! The “show me on your costar where the Bad Director touched you? CHECK! It is familiar and strange at the same time, just like all of Bollywood. I have often wondered if producers in LA stole the idea of MTV from Bollywood song spots.

Heh. Cool, ain’t it?

Orycon was really fun, despite the shyness and exhaustion. I enjoyed all my panels, even if the “Can ethics and scientific experimentation coexist?” panel needed order restored a few times. And the “mock trial of James T Kirk for crimes against the Federation” where I got to say “Space hoochies!” several times.

One of the most interesting thing about panels is that it takes the panelists paying attention to the moderator before the audience will. And there is always one or two (or four) people (whether in the audience or in the panel itself) who don’t want to give others equal time. These are usually the people who will not ask questions, mostly; they will give statements as if they are panelists. Not that a certain amount of heckling and/or commenting from the audience isn’t welcome; but there is a type of combative force to certain commenters that turn them into troublemakers. It’s a variant of the hard sell.

Still, that is just the nature of panels. If it bothers one, one should probably stay away from convention panels.

Just like, if one finds oneself trying to explain one’s book to one’s critique partners, well, something has gone terribly wrong. The words, “But you don’t understand my BOOOOOOOOK!” should be a clear indication that one needs to go soak one’s head. Thoroughly.

But I’m off track. The convention was a lot of fun. I saw a lot of lovely costumes, including a Darth Maul without facial tats on the “Bad SF/Fantasy Films” panel. I was approached by a few fans. And, breaking a law of conventions, Todd McCaffrey and I actually got some time to sit down and talk to each other, though our bad panel karma is still holding. For some reason, even if we are at a convention we are usually on opposite sides of the hotel, ships passing in the night.

Still, I can see the end of the curse in sight, as we actually got to see each other three whole times this convention, and even had breakfast–where I dumped bacon in coffee, forgot my wallet, and mixed up pheromones and phonemes. (So I can SMELL my pronunciation!) Much fun was had by all.

Special thanks to the UnSullen One and to Red Argyle (pseudonyms both, you know who you are) for keeping me fed, on track, and mostly on time to everything.) And special thanks to all the Readers who told me they like my books. Each time I hear it, it’s wonderful. A writer lives for that sort of thing. *grin*

I got home with my back out of joint and my brain turned to mush. A little bit of stretching and back-cracking meant I fell in bed early and had strange dreams, but it was worth it. Now that I’ve had some sleep and processing time, I can consider it a successful convention. I hope it was as grand for everyone.

Off to Orycon! Panels galore! Also, food! (Probably.) Costumes! The dealer’s room!

Ah, conventions. The time and place for the spastic cocker spaniel in me to roam free, free as the wind blows.

See you there if you’re going, will be back with a report if you’re not…

Hey gang. I’m going to do a List today, since the world will only become manageable that way. Or at least, manageable for me.

* Widget mania! Want to read a little of a Valentine book before you buy it? Orbit has you covered:

And of course, you can add a Valentine widget to your blog or webpage if you like. I’m just sayin’. (end shameless self-promotion)

* The event last night at Powell’s was awesome. I got to meet and Dal Perry, just to name a few. Saint Peter Honigstock is a wonderful facilitator, and the Martian MoonCrab Bookweasel (don’t you love my attempts to keep people’s privacy intact? I’m a one-woman civil liberties crusade.) was a joy and a treasure as usual.

* Oh, and Annanda? Yes, they’re still together. I promise.

* I’m going to be at Orycon for the next three days. Further bulletins as events warrant, but you can find my panel/reading/autograph schedule here.

* Mucho thanks to the Muffin for putting together the bunk beds yesterday. I don’t care how “easy” they say self-assembled furniture is. It’s one of the few things that make me wish I was both pyrokinetic and less in control of my temper.

* Last but not least, thank you for all the concern and support. Y’all know who you are–and you all rule.

Catch you on the flip side, Readers! I’ll be back soon with Tales of the Convention…

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! (evil laugh)

As my Soopa-Geek Josh Carter says, sometimes life just runs amok with you in its teeth, like a terrier with a chew toy. A nasty little psychopathic terrier. On crack.

But before we get to the chew toy, a big shout goes out to Chris aka Sandpanther, who sent me this tribute photo for Saint City Sinners.

Heh. I just love a man in uniform. Thank you, Chris!

So this evening I’ll be in Beaverton, at the Cedar Hills Crossing Powell’s, for the Local/NW Sci-Fi/Fantasy Authorfest. I believe Jay Lake will be there as well, which is all kinds of cool. Oh, and Ru Emerson, who I kind of sort of know through the Martian MoonCrab. It will be lovely to meet her.

Later this week I will be on some Orycon panels (eek!) which will be a whole new level of fun and daring. I’ve done a few panels before, but I’ve never been to an Orycon. I’m also reading (I’ll be reading from a Jill Kismet book) and signing on Saturday afternoon, and doing the Writer’s Workshop.

If I don’t collapse from exhaustion it will be a miracle. This is my brain…this is my brain turned to convention oatmeal.

Then after Orycon I’m saying goodbye to friends and family in order to turn the third Kismet book in under deadline. The deadline that was just dropped on me. *grin* Say what you will, it is certainly never boring being me. And I like that.

On a slightly more serious note, I am a big fan of Steven Brust. (Like, HUGE fan.) And he’s having some troubles lately (as in, losing his house kind of troubles, through no fault of his own.) If you can see sparing a few pennies, there’s a donate page up on his website (over his objections, I might add.) If you’d prefer to contribute by buying a CD of politically incorrect folk music (as only Brust could deliver), here it is. He’s a wonderful writer (I am green with envy, actually) and a gem of a human being, and if you’d like to help out, well, that would be mighty swell.

On another serious note, my own living situation is calming down a bit. Change sucks sometimes, especially changes to a long-term relationship. Everything is kosher for the moment, and I thank you–all of you–who have sent cards and letters and emails and all sorts of wonderful support. It’s not quite the end of the world, but I can see it from here–and the supportive missives help so much, you would not believe. Maybe someday in the future I’ll do a blog post about everything that’s happening. Until then, I’ll just say things are generally sucking but have achieved a holding pattern of suck.

First, this video, gacked from Smart Bitches.

Wow. I mean, just…wow. The Dear Muffin and I have decided it’s Korean, and that it’s one of the strangest things we’ve ever seen, and that for a variety of cultural reasons we can’t imagine Americans doing this. Then I brought up marching band state finals, and we took another look at the screen and decided, no, not even marching bands.

Last night I went to Ikea. Damn the Selkie for getting me hooked on the color, the order, the strangely soothing madness of Ikea. I only had to turn ’round once to find it (thank God the UnSullen One was with me, he navigates while I drive.) And I found my way free with my boot full of booty, including: pub glasses to replace the square glasses that I love but that break at an alarming rate, a pan set and one big and two small frying pans (since our pans are getting a bit use-worn), a stuffed snake/dragon for the kids, a down comforter for the UnSullen One, who is so skinny he feels the cold more than most.

I also spent a long time staring hungrily at a wood kitchen with granite-type countertops. Mmmmmmh.

Redemption Alley is going well. I had thought it would just be humans involved with this Bad Event, but unfortunately that won’t fly. Hellbreed are all over it. I may have to tweak and tweak to get things done right, but that’s a small consideration when one has 50 out of 90K done.

It is SO GOOD to be home. I know I’ve said that before, but damn it’s true. I liked New York–well, I liked the people we visited, and I liked the Met and the Strand bookstore. But there really is nothing like home, and the West Coast’s slower pace and laid-back-ness are things I like very much. Plus it’s not so dry here. The rain has sunk into some cracked-dry parts of me and started the healing.

The change to autumn/winter was stunning–in the space of one night, the leaves all pretty much dropped and now the rains have moved in. So it’s back to that time of year when I feel most at home, when I can listen to the rain on the roof and be glad I’m not out in it. Time for mud on the kids’ shoes and wet leaves everywhere, and the house smelling like baking pretty much every day.

There has been a request for oatmeal cookies, of course. With chocolate chips.

Anyway, I’m settling in for some work on Kismet and will be tooling around later today to buy bunk beds and maybe rescue a bag of kettle corn from the Selkie. Because, you know, that’s what friends do.