Con-past, Con-coming, Concomitance

Next Friday, one week from today, I'm flying to Atlanta for my very first Dragon*Con. My books are being carried by Glennis LeBlanc and the other fine folks of The Missing Volume, tables 614 and 615 in the Exhibit Hall, located in the Marquis Ballroom.

I'm only shipping them a few bundles and a few copies of each book, so show up early. I anticipated being available for signing and sketching for about an hour on Saturday and Sunday, but I don't have that schedule yet. Watch this space, and watch my twitter feed for updates.

This week I'm working furiously to front-load the buffer, because last week I was at the World Science Fiction Convention. No, I didn't win a Hugo award this year.

I now have a collection of four Hugo Nominee pins, all of which I wear with pride. I've also become something of a connossieur of the consolation prizes. This year's was a kaleidoscope. That may sound a little kitschy, but it's the only prize I've spent any appreciable amount of time playing with. Note to bid committees -- give Hugo Losers cool toys, not dust-collectors. This souvenir martini-shaker is an eyesore.

While I'm whining, the events in the Peppermill were too far apart, and on our walk from the Hugo ceremony to the Loser's Party we were (I am NOT making this up) pushed against the wall by the Peppermill's bouncers who were handling traffic control for their fancy night-club. It was every bit as low-class as it sounds. The Peppermill is a lovely facility (as casinos go, which means they've applied lipstick to the pig's sphincter, but I digress) but I'll never attend an event there again. 

As awful as that was, it failed completely to take the shine off of a wonderful show. Here is a sketch-card I drew of Fairlane Vicente, the model who posed during Art Night!

I got to meet Larry Niven, the man whose work I credit with hauling me away from the fantasy genre and into fictions scientifical. I also met David Brin, who confessed to reading and enjoying Schlock Mercenary. I maintained an epic level of stoic calm until he was out of earshot and then I jumped up and down and went "squeee" a lot. I was on panels with Rachel Bloom (of the Hugo-nominated, NSFW "F*ck Me, Ray Bradbury" video) and Hugo-winner Kate Baker of Clarkesworld, and moderated a panel full of much better artists than myself. I hung out with Steve Jackson (we did quail-egg shooters!), Scalzi (SFWA-suite guest pass for rescuing his laptop!), and met my long-distance personal trainer, Sandra Wickham (I felt fat all weekend. Small downer.) 

Our booth did smashing business thanks to the many Schlockfen who came by, and thanks also to my friends Sal and Caryn who expertly managed things so that I could focus on being "the talent" and Sandra could count beans and be gorgeous. Sandra tells me that WorldCon paid our bills for a month, so hey! Money! I get to keep doing this thing!

Speaking of which, I need to get busy doing this thing. This buffer ain't going to front-load itself. There's violence to be drawn...

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