Lilith Saintcrow » Convention Mention

PSA, Plus Win A Copy of Angel Town!

Lili — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 15:56:47 +0000

First, the serious: Jim C. Hines on reporting sexual harassment in the SFF community. The comments also mention Gavin de Becker’s The Gift of Fear, which I also can’t recommend enough.

Then, the fun! Would you like to win a signed (in the US) or free (outside the US) copy of my just-released Angel Town? Or a copy of fellow Dame Keri Arthur’s Darkness Rising? Or would you, perchance, like a $15 Amazon gift certificate? Would you?

Well, you’re in luck! Just head over to the Deadline Dames’ latest Release Day Giveaway. All you have to do to get a chance to win is comment there. The Dames, we believe in making it easy to win.

We’re cool like that.

While you’re there, you can also find tons of other cool things, like the Readers on Deadline contests and helpful writing/publishing advice. And as soon as we figure out how to give out pie over the Internet, we’ll probably do that too.

Because we’re Dames. And Dames rock.

Convention Madness, Recovery Edition

Lili — Tue, 16 Aug 2011 18:23:55 +0000

So, we returned from SpoCon late Sunday evening, exhausted but happy, clutching our gifts and swag, all three of us incredibly happy to be home again. Miss B. returned from my writing partner’s house about an hour after we got home. While we were convention-ing, Miss B was catching voles, rolling in grass, meeting alpacas and horses and chickens and generally having the run of a couple acres. I was actually half afraid that she wouldn’t want to come home. The cats, checked on every day by a friend or two, were aloof as usual. “Oh, you left? I didn’t notice…”

The kids are still talking about the hotel pool, and being able to watch all the television they wanted to. They attended a couple panels, liked the dealer’s room and the game room, and had fun spotting costumes. They weren’t too into panels–the siren call of the hotel room, with AC and the big wide television, was too strong to ignore.

Oh well.

As for me, I had a lovely time. Kudos must go to Chris Snell for organizing, and Kathy McCracken, who is a saint for ferrying three punch-drunk writers to her place of employment, ferrying us back, and going drinking with us as well. (Well, there was dinner involved, so it wasn’t as bad as it sounds.) The list of people I enjoyed muchly includes Erik Scott de Bie, who can out-deadpan me, Moira J. Moore (hey Moira, the Princess finished your book the night we got home, she loved it), Roxanne Skelly (keep going, even if you are in revision hell), upcoming writers Kaye T. and Esther J., the nice guy in Registration who figured out the badges for the Prince and Princess, Frances Pauli (who almost made me moderate again), and Courtney Brasil, who was a trouper, let me tell you. That panel didn’t let up until after MIDNIGHT. Plus, the young man who I used as an example during the Paranormal Paramours panel: you were a good sport, thank you.

I wanted to take a bunch of pictures, but I was going so fast trying to get to the next place I needed to be…that I forgot. Bad author, no cookie for me.

Anyway, it was a lot of fun. The drive out there was pretty, even though coming into Spokane through the construction on I90 was an exercise in patience. The drive home was gorgeous, except for the Prince and Princess in the car for six hours growing heartily tired of each other. (They spent all of yesterday in their rooms, recuperating and catching up on alone-time.) I think I’ve about recovered–I was toast yesterday, couldn’t form a complete sentence to save my life.

Anyway. My big purchase in the dealer’s room was a pocket-watch that Bannon & Clare just had to have. I don’t even know how to wear a bloody pocket watch anymore, but it’s gorgeous and I love it. Thanks also to all the fans, both at the convention and at the Hastings signing, you were uniformly a pleasure to meet and chat with.

And that’s about it. I got up this morning, ran five miles, bouldered with my pal ZenEllen, and am settling into deadlines.

Whew. It’s good to be back.

No related posts.

Convention Fun, Day One

Lili — Fri, 12 Aug 2011 16:58:08 +0000

So we made it to Spokane for SpoCon. The trip was not without its hazards, including one episode of carsickness (thank the gods for all-wheel drive; when one ends up in the construction gravel on the side of a road going up the Gorge it’s nice to know one’s trip isn’t over.) that a pair of bemused survey guys from the county curiously watched me clean up after, lunch at the weirdest Subway on earth (don’t ask) and Spokane desperately trying to keep me from entering its environs. (Oh, I90, you gave it a good go, but I’m more determined AND tougher than you, m’dear.) So here we are. The kids enjoy hotel television (Looney Tunes! In the wild! OMG!) and my first panel starts at 2:30pm.

For those of you wondering, my con schedule is here. Expect live-Tweeting and shenanigans. (They do have a bar here. I’ve checked.)

Onward!

Ready For SpoCon?

Lili — Tue, 09 Aug 2011 17:30:53 +0000

Why have I been so hard to find these days? Well, the new YA book I’m working on is eating my head. Plus, there’s two other books about to go into the pipe for revision. There’s the kids, of course. And the dog. (You don’t even want to know about the other strays.)

Plus, there’s the events I’m getting ready for.

I’ll be at SpoCon this upcoming weekend! You can find my schedule here. Plus, I’ll be signing at the Hastings in Spokane on Saturday, 3-6pm, along with Erik Scott de Bie and Moira Moore. (We have collectively promised not to get arrested.) Should be a ton of fun! I will, of course, be tweeting all I can. Because I’m Just That Way.

In short, if I seem to have dropped off the face of the earth, it’s because this is basically Hell Week for me. There’s getting ready for the convention, planning pet care and the drive out, wordcount every day, doctor’s appointments (don’t ask) and back-to-school stuff that all needs to happen before Thursday morning. The runrunrun of a con will probably be a relief.

See you in Spokane, or catch you on the flip side!

Announcements!

Lili — Fri, 22 Jul 2011 17:39:01 +0000

It is just way too bright and sunny today. And it’s a good thing I’m damn stubborn, or I would have quit after three miles today and not had that awesome endorphin-kick runner’s high. Not to mention the drift of honeysuckle, the cheerful “good morning”s from other runners–I content myself with a “Morning!” in return, because I can’t be cheerful while struggling to stay upright and moving. I would have also missed having the shaded park all to myself for a few glorious circuits. That was nice.

So, announcements!

* If you’ve ever wondered how Selene returned to Saint City, you can read the brand-new Selene and Nikolai story, Just Ask in the upcoming Mammoth Book of Hot Romance.

* Also upcoming is Reckoning, the final book in the Strange Angels series. The end of August will see a bindup of bboks one and two, Strange Angels and Betrayals with an all-new, lovely cover.

* November will also see the final Jill Kismet book, Angel Town.

* You can now buy all five of the Dante Valentine novels in one smoking-hot omnibus. (Personal demon not included, sorry.) Also, Graphic Audio has released parts one and two of Working For The Devil, I believe part 1 of Dead Man Rising is also available.

* I will be attending SpoCon in August. Not quite sure what my schedule will look like, but I’ll be there on panels etc. I will also be at the Cedar Hills Crossing Powells annual SF/F Authorfest in ?November?, more details on that as it gets closer.

* There’s an interview with me up over at the Gatekeeper’s Post.

* I can’t really talk about this yet, but it’s up on Amazon. Tempty tempty.

* A big “welcome home” shout-out to TP, back from the wilds of Europe. *evil wink*

…I’m sure there’s something I’ve forgotten, but I haven’t even finished my coffee yet, so forgive me. Off I go to find a name that means “a hunter” for a wooden garden-boy. He wants Calhoun, but I’m not sure he should have it. He’s not the protagonist, so he doesn’t really get what he wants as far as names.

Damn characters. Over and out.

Critique Is Not A City In Indonesia*

Lili — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 18:52:31 +0000

This post is from the old Midnight Hour writing blog, where I used to do Friday posts. The Midnight Hour is defunct now–sad because I liked it so much. But I managed to get my entries off before it went bust, which means I can offer you this one. This is from November 23, 2007, and I think it’s still timely. Another note: this is crossposted to the Deadline Dames, where there is all sorts of great advice and giveaways.

Critique is like marriage counseling. One does not want to admit that one has done something that matters so much less than perfectly. Critique in a workshop/convention setting is even more dangerous, because there is the added fun of exhaustion, convention emotion, and fluid interpersonal rules.

I very rarely do critique sessions, mostly because I have beta readers I’m comfortable with. And I hate having to pick apart a stranger’s work, unless it’s in the comfort of my home where I can read a book and bitch in peace. Plus, in a group, there’s the whole group dynamic to worry about, and I’m usually far more concerned with people getting along than with the work at hand. Which is why I work alone, I reckon.

But I realize other people feel differently about it. So, in the interests of making things easier (always one of my favorite things to do) I’m going to offer some thoughts and tips about critique sessions.

Recently I participated in a Clarion-style critique session, where the more experienced critiquer goes first, everyone gets five minutes, and the writer is only allowed to respond during the brainstorming session. A fellow published author and I** were critiquing two unpublished authors, and the two unpubs were critiquing each other too. Which is a good way to get a range of advice.

One critique session went smoothly, the other not so smoothly. The one that went smoothly had an author who managed to keep his mouth shut and really listen to the advice being offered despite it being about one of his babies. He held his peace and during the brainstorming mentioned that he had majored in drama, so he could understand our concerns about dialogue. He asked our advice about specific ways to solve the problems inherent in the stories and took notes. Not only did the story impress me, but (and this is critical) the author’s taking of the critique impressed the editor in me. The guy seemed like he would be easy to work with, and that leads me to the first major thing critique sessions should never be used for.

Pitching. Please, dear God, DO NOT pitch your story to a published author or an editor during the critique session. It’s in bad form, especially to the others being critiqued. If they like your story, they may give you submissions tips, but that’s as far as it goes. Critique is supposed to make you a better writer, not sell your fantasy epic.

It is vital as well that you not seek to explain your story. If you have to explain your story during a critique session, you haven’t done your job as a writer. The story needs to stand without explanation, and most critique sessions will show you where the weak spots are that keep a story from doing so.

I don’t think any writer really loves to critique. We understand how dreadful a feeling it is to have one’s baby flayed and pinned to the wall, the flaws on open display. (Note: there are some toxic critiquers who delight in emotional banditry, insulting others’ stories. This post isn’t about them.) We don’t want to tell someone else what is wrong with their story–but we will in a critique session, because the information is valuable. It could be the difference between the slush pile and a contract. Try to remember that the critiquers by and large are overcoming their own natural reticence to help your story.

Above all, don’t get loud. If you disagree, wait for your turn and say, “I disagree.” But come on–if two of your critique partners agree on something, it’s something you need to seriously take a look at, not disagree with. At the very least there is a problem that might need tweaking in your text. But do not get loud. Do not blame your editor, or say that your story is for a small select audience who will Understand.

Because that sort of shit means you’ll never get published. An editor sees that sort of behavior and thinks, thank God I don’t have to work with that. You’re in the slush pile regardless of the quality of your work, and that is something no writer needs. Conversely, you can never tell when an editor will recognize your name and associate it with the great way you took a critique. Remember, editors are people too…and if they have to make a choice between 1. moderate quality and a person who’s easy to work with, and 2. higher quality but an a$$hole to work with, guess what they will choose most of the time? (Hint: it isn’t #2.)

Critiquers understand this is a delicate and explosive situation***. That’s why there are Rules. The Rules are there to take the emotion out or at least tone it down, to mitigate the hurt, and give a framework that makes it easier for us to be human beings instead of screaming emotion-driven banshees. Of course, Rules are only as good as the people playing by them or breaking them…but that’s beside the point.

So, things not to do during a critique:

* Don’t try to explain your story.
* Don’t get loud or combative, or distraught.
* Do not blame your editor, your beta reader, the sad state of literacy in America, the stupidity of readers, etc., for the fact that your story is inoperable.
* Do not talk when you’re not supposed to.
* Do not take the critique as a personal attack.
* Don’t try to sell or pitch the story.
* Above all, do not be rude.

Things to do during a critique:

* Take notes. You won’t remember everything without help.
* Keep your trap shut when you’re supposed to.
* Try to divorce yourself from the story for an hour. The clearer and more dispassionate you can be, the better.
* Be polite. Be polite, be polite, be polite.
* Thank the critiquers.
* Don’t ask how you can sell the story. Ask how you can make the story better.
* It is perfectly acceptable to ask for clarification. Use this with caution, though, as it is easy to slide down the rabbit hole into Defending Yer Story.

As usual, thy mileage will vary, my ducks. Take all my advice with a grain of salt, since this is only my personal perception, etc., etc., ad nauseum, ad infinitum.

Disclaimer done. Good luck out there.

* Heh. I make this joke only because I saw “kretek” on every packet of clove cigarettes I ever smoked.
**Not that I believe published authors are “higher” on the food chain. It’s just that they found something that worked and so, are uniquely placed to give advice.
***At least, the good ones do. There are still those emotional bandits, who are still another post.

Orycon Wrap-Up

Lili — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 18:50:35 +0000

Let me ‘splain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

In other words, time for a Bulleted List about OryCon!

* The first panel I was on–Apocalyptic Storytelling–had both Jay Lake and Ken Scholes. Which was a very good omen. It was the first time I’d met Jay, and both of us in a room together? Is Trouble with a capital T. But such enjoyable trouble–and when you throw apocalypse into the mix, ZOMG. I’m surprised we left the hotel standing.

* If you ever get the chance to buy Steven Barnes dinner, do it. The man is charismatic, smart, profound, funny, and very decent. I could listen to him talk through a five-course meal.

* Harry Turtledove is a Class Act. I had the pleasure of being on a panel with him and my inner fangirl just about expired of glee.

* Barb and JC Hendee are awesome people. So is Devon Monk, who got a cake! And a photoshoot that was absolutely packed. (I was there, Devon! I just couldn’t get near because of the crowd!) Thanks to all three of them for making OryCon–and the Powells signing beforehand–even more wonderful. (TEAM LEESIL!)

* The Guilty Pleasures and Definitive Paranormal Romance panels were awesomely fun, since my inner geek got to come out and play hard.

* The Magical Realism and Research For Alternate History panels massaged my brain really, really hard. In particular, Steven Barnes and Eric Witchey both said a lot of things I wish there had been double the time to go into.

* A big shout out to Jeff Soesbe, who gamely listened to me babble. Jeff, I swear to God, next time we’ll actually sit down to lunch and have a long conversation.

* Thank you to all the con volunteers. You were uniformly pleasant and helpful when I had a question, and your hard work really showed all through the con experience. I am very grateful that you do what you do.

* Thank you to my fellow panelists and the fans who came! Writing is such a solitary art, it’s fun to get out and connect for a while.

* Last but not least, I received confirmation of the There’s Always One In Every Audience–the person who thinks the panel/whatever isn’t really about the stated subject or the panelists’ experience (which is the reason they’re on the fricking panel), but about THEM and THEIR LITTLE EMOTIONAL NEEDS. I’ve been to enough cons now that I want to put together a Panel Bingo.[1] Hmph. But when all is said and done, those people only get as much as the people around them are willing to put up with, and I’ve found I am singularly unwilling to put up with very much. If they’re going to be That Guy/Gal, I have no problem being the Panel Moderator of Doom. In other words, bringing out my Raving Bitch Moderator Card, slapping it on the table, and saying “Bring it.” The good thing about this is the people who thank me afterward for not letting That Guy/Gal get away with hijacking the panel. Which always happens, and always makes me feel good. Nice to know there are some constants in life.

And now…I really have to get back to wordcount. No rest for the wicked. I was still so drained this morning that I decided to forgo the treadmill in favor of shovelgloving and a long walk later in the day. I suspect the walk will do a lot to rejuvenate me, and I’ll be ready to run for a whole half-hour (ha ha) tomorrow.

But first, I’ve got to get my heroine in some more trouble. Catch you on the flip side, dear Reader.

[1] Two spaces will be taken by things I’ve actually heard so far: “Won’t someone think of the children!” and “My freedom of speech has been–” Which is when I automatically shut it off. Your freedom of speech doesn’t cover abusing panelists or hijacking everyone’s con experience. *rolls eyes* ANYWAY. Moving on.

I Made The Olympian!

Lili — Fri, 01 Aug 2008 20:37:03 +0000

Well, kind of. The Breaking Dawn Release Party made the Olympian, and if you look in the sidebar, you’ll see that I’m judging a Vampire Costume Contest at the party, as well as signing copies of Night Shift.

So again, if you’re in the area, come on by the Black Lake Blvd. Barnes & Noble to celebrate the release of the final book in Stephanie Meyer’s excellent series. There will even be cake and a fortune teller, and my friend Jeff Davis will be there with his Pacific NW ghost guides and copies of Weird America. All in all, it’s going to be a blast. I hope I’ll see you there.

The Train! The Train!

Lili — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 16:55:42 +0000

If you’ve been around here for a while, you know how I hate to fly. I loathe flying, not because I’m afraid of heights (though claustrophobia probably has something to do with it). No, I hate flying because of the inconvenience. Getting to the airport two or three hours early, dealing with the security lines–which do NOT make me feel more safe, they only make me feel more worried about the state of our democracy–then hours waiting at the gate, while boarding, to take off, to land, to disembark, to get the luggage…it turns into a nightmare, and I feel taken advantage of at each stage, not least since airlines have started charging for the first piece of checked luggage.

So when the publisher asked me to go to San Diego for ComiCon, I said, “Sure. Can I take the train?”

The publisher’s travel agency was floored that anyone would want a trip that took longer than flying, though when one adds in al the aggravation and waiting, I felt the train ride was probably shorter.

I LOVED the train ride. We took Amtrak’s Coast Starlight, which is supposedly their hoity-toity new refurbished ride down the West Coast, from Seattle to LA. There was some confusion–Amtrak itineraries are so ill-conceived I had problems reading them. Not only that, but so did the Selkie and the Muffin, so I didn’t feel quite so much a moron–which ended up with me upgrading the UnSullen One and myself to something called a “Roomette” instead of coach.

Which I was endlessly glad of. For slightly less than plane tickets for both of us from PDX to SAN, we got two single beds (one of them a bunk) and a private enclosure, meals (well, train food, which is better than plane food only in you get slightly more choices and slightly bigger portions, as well as cheaper booze), and a door we could close to shut the world out.

The roomette worked out so well I called ahead in Sacramento on the way down to see if we could upgrade on the way back. We actually got, for slightly more than the price of a coach/economy plane ride back for both of us, something called a “deluxe”–a bigger bed on the bottom, a bunk on top, both of which folded up so the traveling compartment held a bench seat and a “chair”, plus our own sink, loo, and shower.

We got the last upgrade possible on the returning train, and boy HOWDY was I glad.

So, the trip itself! We left Vancouver at about 1PM on Wednesday and bumped southward. Both of us were excited and very happy not to be on a plane, notwithstanding a car attendant who seemed to be on meth and very unhappy at the same time. Still, with the exception of trying to get her to tell us how to put our beds up the next day, she wasn’t that bad.

The scenery was pretty much awesome. The Starlight winds through the Cascades and goes through Salinas and San Luis Obispo, both places I wanted to see. Going through the Cascades was awesome, because we could see valleys cars couldn’t traverse; we also passed Vandenberg (sp?) Air Force Base, a ship graveyard, and all sorts of neat historical places. (I got off in Salinas and touched the dirt, feeling very Steinbeck.)

Going through urban areas the scenery was less pretty but no less awesome. The UnSullen One was agog at all the graffiti, and spent many an enjoyable hour watching it. I enjoyed seeing cities from trainside–you get a much “seamier” view than driving through. On a train you can see into people’s backyards, you can see the shelters the homeless have put up, you can see junkyards and the back yards of industrial complexes. It was great Musecrack, especially for an urban fantasy author. Being able to stretch out one’s legs and relax was incredibly nice, too.

It was a long, long trip on the way down. Even though we had a shower in our sleeper car, I didn’t get to wash my hair and was feeling a bit greasy by the time we pulled into LA. (By the way–seeing LA at night from the rails is an EXPERIENCE, especially when some idiot kids leave a bicycle on the tracks.) In LA there was a bit of a wait while we transferred to the train to San Diego, which was a far more exhausting ride since at that point, the Teen and I both had to interact with people and were stressed out about possibly not making our connection. Plus, we were told to go to three different platforms, with the third finally being the correct one. GUH. < ---That was the sound of me wishing I had a transporter.

Getting into San Diego at 1-2AM was all right, especially since the hotel was two blocks away from the train/trolley station. Tired, but not as exhausted as we could have been, we both took showers and collapsed, and were ready to go do ComiCon madness after a bit of sleeping.

The UnSullen One was full of good ideas all weekend long, and one of the best was when he suggested we hop down Saturday afternoon and get our upgraded tickets instead of waiting for 5AM Sunday morning. It was pretty hot and a half-hour wait, mostly because of one Entitled Customer who just would. Not. Shut. Up. when dealing with the only open ticket window, but as soon as she was out of the way the line started moving at a good clip and we got our upgraded tickets, which meant no stress the next morning.

Coming back up from San Diego it was the Surfliner to LA (again) and a transfer once we hit LA. Then the best part of the trip (the train trip, that is) happened. Since we were in a sleeper car, we got to hang out in the Starlight's new lounge in Los Angeles Union Station, which is a very, very pretty building in its front half. Tiled floors and long windows, old wooden pews and a certain grace and harmony from when trains were the only way to go. We had a wonderful, wonderful crew on the way back up to Vancouver. Our car attendant, Julio, was different as night and day from out meth-snorting twitcher on the way down. I don't think I had to lift a finger I didn't want to. It was cool seeing the scenery at different times of day, and we could relax with the con and all the transfers behind us.

So, without further ado, here are the famous BULLETED LISTS of Good Things and Not So Good Things about the train ride.

GOOD THINGS:

* Sitting in the parlor car, drinking coffee and Bailey’s, watching the Cascades fold away in timbered valleys below.
* The California coast, hugged for a while between LA and the inward turn.
* Julio the car attendant, and the lovely lady in the parlor car on the way back, who made sure I was well taken care of and talked graffiti with the Teen.
* The food may not have been high quality, but at least there was enough of it. You wouldn’t starve in a sleeper car, and the meals are included in the ticket price.
* Hannah, Olivia, and Emma, the lovely young ladies we met coming back from LA. They played endless hands of Uno with the UnSullen One, and were quite the resourceful travel partners. Ladies, you are quite the credit to your family.
* Being able to lock the door and sleep, only vaguely concerned about What Might Happen If I Close My Eyes.
* One’s own loo on the way back. The “shower” in our compartment hardly deserved the name, but there was a separate one on the bottom floor of every sleeper car, so keeping clean was an option. The private loo MORE than made up for any shower issues.
* The sound of the rails, which I quite enjoyed.
* Getting up and walking on the train is a good way to keep from getting any circulatory problems. Stretching is also possible, with a little care and thought. Which knocks out a lot of the physical misery of traveling, though the different pollen in different places can make one’s allergies flare unexpectedly. I think the UnSullen One is still sneezing from San Juan Capistrano’s burst of pollen.
* NOT BEING IN COACH. Having a little private space really made the difference between a pleasant trip and a voyage through Hell.
* Seeing the kids on the train platform, running toward me, and being rested enough to run for them.

NOT-SO-GOOD THINGS

* Trains are social, and there is a special class of aggressive drunks that resides upon them. It was difficult for me to ignore, because they will do just about anything to get your attention. (Thankfully, the private sleeper space was a refuge–and the UnSullen One has a variety of mischievious tricks perfect for rescuing me from aggressive drunks.) Meals in the dining car were also community-dining, so one’s dinner partners are unlikely to engage in silence at the table. Which can drain one’s emotional energy liek woah.
* The social aspect of trains also means that some people feel they can make judgments/comments about you if they don’t like your clothing or your comportment. Still, if this bothered me I would have never survived high school. I do think I deserve kudos for not shooting a few people the bird and a verbal smackdown.
* Seeing the smog bank over LA and thinking about what that does to people’s lungs. Ugh.
* Not thinking about taking my knitting with me. I could’ve finished a few things–but lugging them around might have been a difficulty.
* The constant motion didn’t bother me, but it does make some people ill. And there’s also the factor of being bumped around at high speed while one is in the narrow, narrow halls in the sleeper cars. I do have bruises, and we saw a couple of elderly men obviously on Coumadin or other blood thinners who were very, very bruised on their upper arms.
* Our crew on the way down to LA was full of very obviously unhappy people. Still, we shut our door and didn’t have to deal with them. With the exception of Larry the Parlor Car guy, who was uniformly pleasant and helpful, a bright spot in an otherwise sour-faced crew.
* Plenty of confusion on the way between LA and San Diego, compounded by sleeplessness and excitement. The first time one tries anything new is always stressful.
* The view of poverty. I am always acutely aware of this in cities anyway, but seeing so much of it from the rails is…it’s heartwrenching. We also saw plenty of migrant workers in the Salad Bowl fields, and that affected me profoundly. I am still very thoughtful about it.
* Being less than five minutes away from the Vancouver station, knowing someone was waiting to pick us up, and being stuck behind a bridge because river traffic has priority. ARGH. But it was, as I’ve said, less aggravation than flying. By an order of magnitude at LEAST.
* Creeping through smoke from several wildfires at ten miles an hour in the middle of the night. The smoke got into the train’s ventilation system and made sleeping problematic, which is probably why I was so tired in LA.
* We were in an older sleeping car coming back, so it wasn’t as nice as some of the newer ones. However, it was still (you guessed it) better than flying, and that’s a small quibble.
* Microwaved food all the ding-dang time. On the up side, though, the booze wasn’t bad, and roughly comparable to getting drinks at a lounge.

There are other things I could say, but this is a monster post already. Suffice to say I really, really enjoyed my trip, and I was glad not to fly. I’d take the train again in a heartbeat going down the West Coast, or within a reasonable number of miles from home. Anything further than that I’d probably have to fly, but I would exert myself mightily not to do so.

Thanks to everyone who gave me great train advice–especially the people who told me to upgrade, and whoever suggested WetNaps. Gods bless the Interwebs Advice Pool.

And yes…it’s good to be home.

Related posts:

Home. Blank stare. Home.

Beginning to jell…

Still Conscious, And COMI-CON!

The Monster Comi-Con Post

Lili — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 18:53:53 +0000

This post is pictureless, because I didn’t take my camera. It would have been just one more thing to keep track of, and since I had enough to keep track of and the UnSullen One was charged with keeping track of me, there was not a hand left over, so to speak.

I’ll just have to use words to paint a picture. Hee.

We got into San Diego at one in the morning on Friday, after a thirty-three (or so) hour train ride. (More about that tomorrow.) It was a cool night, but I felt greasy after so long on a train–really, train showers hardly deserve the name, though they’re better than anything an airplane could possibly come up with.

By two AM we were in our hotel room, and by two-fifteen I was out like a light. The morning dawned bright and sunny, and we wended our way down to the convention center (about eight blocks away) to check in with Alex, our favorite Orbit publicity guy.

Dear Reader, I was not prepared. Now, I’ve done DragonCon, so I thought I was reasonably well-equipped to handle this convention even if the UnSullen One left me to my own devices (which he was wise enough NOT to do, as it turned out.) DragonCon seemed more manageable. In contrast, ComiCon was a couple football fields worth of crowd (instead of just a single hotel lobby and assorted panel rooms full of crowd broken into manageable pieces.) The dealer’s room/exhibition hall was, quite frankly, a madhouse. I haven’t been pummeled like that since Plant and Page did their reunion tour and hit the first bars of Gallows Pole.

We managed to find the Orbit booth, and what did we see but Jacqueline Carey signing books? I almost lost all my air. I adore Jacqueline, and she gave me one of my very first cover quotes for Working For The Devil. We keep missing each other when she comes to the Beaverton Powell’s to sign, but this time we actually got to stand in the same room and chat for a wee bit once she was done signing. We didn’t get to go into any depth, but just being in the same room at the same time–FINALLY–was overwhelming to me. I did get to tell her how much Phedre meant to me, and how much I love her books, which was AWESOME with a side of AWESOME, covered in thick AWESOME SAUCE.

But she couldn’t stick around, and neither could I. I had a panel to get to–Eyes on the Present, about how we (the authors present) used the supernatural in our stories. Marjorie Liu, LA Banks, Kelley Armstrong and CE (Catie) Murphy were the stars; Justine Musk, Kate Brallier, and I were along for the ride. I think it went well. I was floored that both CE Murphy and LA Banks had heard of me, and Marjorie Liu said she read my Friday writing posts. *boggles* Holy CRAP.

There’s just something about one’s peers expressing approbation; it’s one of the best things in the world. And goddamn, LA Banks hugged me! And CE Murphy and I got along swimmingly–we both like to create trouble, it seems. Kate Brallier was a rock star, and Samantha Sommersby (the moderator) was very organized and very nice. All in all the panel went so smoothly–we could have gone, as Catie Murphy said, for a couple more hours.

The panel was taped, so you’ll be able to see the harpoon joke I made, and hear LA Banks talk about fish dreams and pregnancy tests. I’ll link to it as soon as it’s up.

Right after the panel we went to the autograph section of the convention, which was easily half a football field and jammed with people. We had a respectable line for two hours or so, during which I sat between Catie and Samantha, and I doubt much more fun could have been had by anyone. I got to see copies of the Hotter Than Hell anthology at last, and signed so many books my wrist began to cramp.

When that wound down, it was time for a short break, and Catie introduced me to Lanny Liu, who I would want to illustrate the second Steelflower book (when I can snatch enough time to write it) as well as the Hedgewitch series. Then it was back down to the Orbit booth to sign lots of Devil’s Right Hands for giveaway.

I was in the thick of signing when a man came up and told me he was a junior-high school teacher, and did I think DRH was appropriate for junior high schoolers? I blinked.

“Well, there’s graphic violence and some obscenities in it–” I hazard.

“Well, the violence is okay. What kind of obscenities are we talking about? Are they, like, on each page, or–”

This went on for five minutes, until Jacqueline Carey (bless her heart), who I hadn’t noticed was standing right there (since I was focusing so hard on each individual signing) finally said, nicely but firmly, “It’s a free book, for God’s sake. Just take it.”

Yep. You read that right. Jacqueline Carey saved my ass. MEGA SCORE!

I finally finished signing I-don’t-know-how-many books, not just DRH but some backlist too, provided by the awesome folks at Mysterious Galaxy (who rock the Casbah, by the way). The evening wound down in a comedy of errors that ended up with me missing dinner with the Harlequin folks, but everything worked out in enough time for me to see MaryElizabeth from Mysterious Galaxy (who is so sweet and wonderful, it’s hard to believe) at dinner, and afterward meet Alex for drinks. It’s fun to talk to other people in the industry. Half the “business” at conventions gets done in the bars, I swear. Or maybe more like three-quarters. That’s also where a lot of brainstorming happens.

I was told Saturday would be more intense than Friday, but I couldn’t imagine it. I finally fell into bed and passed out until I absolutely had to be up Saturday morning at 8, since I was signing at 10 in the Orbit booth. (This time it was copies of Night Shift and stock for Mysterious Galaxy.)

And Lordy, but it was a MADHOUSE. Saturday was, I suspect, the biggest day of the convention. The crowd was so intense in the exhibition hall that I had to literally hang on to the UnSullen One’s backpack so we wouldn’t lose each other. Saturday was also when the costumes came out to play, and boy howdy, people spent a lot of time and love on their costumes. I saw She-Ras, stormtroopers, X-Men (classic, comic, and movie), Jedi, little kids dressed as Yoda, lots of Mario Brothers and Zeldas and Links, plenty of Poison Ivys and at least two cross-dressing Power Girls, lots of classic and Dark Knight Jokers (though lots of the Dark Knight Jokers had unsmeared makeup, which was a head-tilting “Whuh?” moment), at least four Riddlers…and, dear Reader, were I to go on I could make a whole monster post just about the costumes.

I signed a lot of Night Shifts and then gave a podcast interview for Shaun Farrell of Adventures in Scifi Publishing.com (he’ll tell me when the interview goes live) during which I talked about publishing, Dante Valentine, open vs. closed series, and writing advice. And plotting and pantsing, and other things I’ve no doubt forgotten. I hope I didn’t sound like a moron.

After that it was time to bolt some breakfast, since the UnSullen One had been a total rock star and fetched them from the little restaurant inside the San Diego Courthouse, which serves food good enough for the Westin concierge to recommend. I was more than ready for lunch/breakfast/something solid, so we sat outside and watched the SCA combat demonstrations while scarfing. Incidentally, that’s when I got burned, I think–either there or during the walk back to the hotel slightly later, after we saw the art show and took a slow turn about the exhibition hall. That was the sum total of my non-working bit of the convention–I didn’t even get to hit any panels, we were going so fast most of the time.

We managed to get back to the hotel in time for Alex to take us to dinner. (He was pretty pleased at the volume of books signed.) I believe I’ve mentioned de’Medici in San Diego already, but ZOMG, Caesar salad dressing made AT YOUR TABLE. I was seriously feeling some heat exhaustion by then, or I would have totally ordered tableside flambee. *giggles madly*

Alex had another party to go to, and I begged off, because at that point my head was pounding, my tummy was upset, and I was in cold sweats and shaky-legged. Yep, the San Diego sun did me in. Fortunately, getting back to the hotel helped. The UnSullen One poured water down my throat, and after some Tylenol and a cool shower I crawled into bed, made sure the alarm was set for 4AM, and passed out so hard I doubt an earthquake could have awakened me.

Sunday morning we were up by 4, at the train station by 5:15, and on the train to Los Angeles to catch our connection by 6:15. And that was the sum of my ComiCon experience. It sounds a lot more organized than it actually was, considering it took the UnSullen One’s entire attention to navigate me from place to place and keep enough food and water in me to keep me from falling over in between signings–not to mention getting me back to the hotel for little things like changing clothes and sleeping.

And it wouldn’t be a Big ComiCon Post without a bulleted list or two, would it? So here’s the Good and Not-So-Good Things.

Good Things About Comi-Con:

* THE FANS! This is #1. It was awesome to be around so many people who wouldn’t think I was strange because I could list the reasons I love Claremont & Lee X-Men better than any other X-Men, or where I could argue Original Star Wars vs. Recent Star Wars with a random person in a crowd. And there were all the awesome fans who told me in person that they liked my books, or who could tell me how much they loved Japhrimel or Jace, or Jill vs. Dante. The fans totally make any con. Thank you, all of you.
* Finding out LA Banks and CE Murphy, not to mention Marjorie Liu, knew my name. GUH. Total dork squealy fangirl moments were had by Yours Truly.
* Pendragon Costumes. These guys rock all the way to the Casbah and back. I wonder if they’d do a Japhrimel coat?
* Speaking of costumes, did I mention they kicked ass? Especially the pink Darth Vaders, the Narutos, the Stargate peeps, the Darth Mauls…stop me…
* The Owlship from the upcoming Watchmen movie. You could TOUCH it. *dies*
* The lack of scuffles in a crowd of thousands. We were very well-behaved.
* Seeing Seth Green up close–no, I didn’t mug him, we just watched as he walked by.
* Waving back and forth with Jim Butcher–neither of us had time to stop, but we did wave. Hee.
* Signing until my wrist swelled up. I mean, that’s a problem any author is happy to have.
* The art show! Wow!
* The lovely folks of the San Diego PD, who directed traffic patiently and calmly. And the volunteers who gave their time to make the convention a success–they were everywhere, and they were uniformly calm, well-informed, and grinning ear-to-ear.
* Mysterious Galaxy! Best bookstore EVAR!
* The fifty zombie nurses wandering the streets of San Diego en masse, moaning and lurching.
* The Westin San Diego. The showers are FABULOUS, and the Heavenly Bed lived up to its name. Plus, the staff were awesome.
* Getting home and seeing my kidlings. They missed me, I missed them, and seeing them running toward me on the train platform was sweet beyond belief.
* Getting home and finding the house in pretty-good shape. The Muffin really worked hard on keeping things corralled while I was gone.

And the, well, Not So Good Things:

* Crowds. I really have trouble with crowds, and my fear of public speaking is intense. It helps to focus on one person at a time during signings, but still, that was stressful.
* The rubbish overflowing. On the other hand, it was good to see people didn’t just throw stuff wherever. There was remarkably little trash on the ground.
* Associated weirdness and rudeness, which was again, remarkably little considering the 150,000 people (minimum) there.
* Ticket scalpers. Come ON, guys.
* Overstimulated and overstressed toddlers. While I advocate the right of parents to include their kids in great experiences like conventions, I saw plenty of kids screaming because of the overstimulation. Kids don’t have the same endurance as grown-ups do for that sort of thing, and there’s a reason why I either leave mine at home or plan according to their energy and comfort levels. My radar pinged on several little people who could have gotten trampled/lost in the crush, but I didn’t see any really lost kids while I was there.
* The heat. It’s nobody’s fault, but I’m really sensitive to it. Heat exhaustion is NOT FUN. It was a relief to get home.
* My email inbox after five-six days of total nonconnectivity. *cries*

So there you have it. I’m sure I’m forgetting a LOT of stuff, but if I wrote everything that happened I’d be doing this post for a week. It’d be the War and Peace of convention posts.

I’m still exhausted, but nowhere near as exhausted as I would have been had I flown down there. Which brings me to tomorrow’s post: the Train Ride! It deserves a whole monster post of its own.

Stay tuned!

Related posts:

Comi-Con Or Bust

Still Conscious, And COMI-CON!

Dragon. Con. Shake. No Stir.