Authorial Essentials

Anyone playing along at home might have noticed that I’ve had a recent run on stories getting picked up for publication. As of a few weeks ago, I’ve hit six for this year. A not-inconsiderable chunk of the credit for that sits with my writing group, the Wayward Writers. Not that we have a name, or matching satin bowling jackets. But most of them are doing this Write 1, Sub 1 challenge. And I’m not that good at keeping on top of checking markets and getting stories out in circulation. Through their peer pressure and the dedicated efforts of Dawn Vogel who, on request, poked me every time I saw her to ask if I’d submitted recently, I racked up 9 stories out there in circulation.

And as any pro will tell you, if you want to sell stories, you have to submit. I mean, you have to write and polish the hell out of them, too. But a good story sitting on your computer will not publish itself. And taking care of that business end of it can’t be neglected.

A little over a week ago, I sold three stories to hit my half-dozen mark. I’m super pleased for all three stories, because from inception to completion, they couldn’t be more dissimilar. And that’s even accepting that two of them are horror. Sort of.

“Cold Comfort of Silver Lake” is the oldest of the three. I’ve been working on that, getting it into some kind of reasonable shape for a few years. It’s the only contemporary story of the trio, and was spawned by an unfortunate incident in my own life and a nightmare that woke me up hard several years back. It has some difficult subject matter, and I’ve had to tone back some of it over the course of revisions. Even then, I knew it was going to take a certain publisher to accept a story that dark. Thankfully the fine folks at Blood Bound Books liked it. They had previously published my story “The Invitation” in their superlative Rock ‘n’ Roll is Dead anthology. Really. Superlative. Four honorable mentions in Ellen Datlow’s Year’s Best Horror. ”Cold Comfort of Silver Lake” will be in their upcoming Invitation to Horror anthology, and I’ll be sure to let y’all know when it’s about to come out.

“Mahrut’s Road” is an entirely different beast. This story was sparked by a discussion about how I wanted to see more strong female fantasy characters, and some settings that weren’t so Euro-centric. So between panels at the Foolscap convention in 2010, I started jotting down what became the beginning of a story about Siri Viraj, a priestess of Mahrut, the Inside-Out God of Madness and Rage. This self-proclaimed “delicate little flower” just wanted to be a dancer until fate chose a different path for her, and the story that she inspired was full on sword & sorcery. At the time, it didn’t really occur to me that there wasn’t much of a market for good, old fashioned S&S, especially with a female protagonist in an India-styled setting. But it didn’t matter. I needed to write what I wanted to read. It’s always been as simple as that for me.  So I’m pleased beyond all the capacity for rational thought that her adventure, “Mahrut’s Road,” has been chosen to appear in Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Sword and Sorceress 27 this fall.

The third story, “Absolution of the Fallen Star” was written in the past month specifically for consideration in an anthology called Dangers Untold. The premise of the anthology was to tell horror stories using non-traditional monsters. And this story almost didn’t happen. Originally, I was going to write a story about finger puppets, but I couldn’t get past a few story/plot obstacles (the primary being that it was too mean, which is an odd thing for me to admit). Then I was going to submit another story that fit the bill. I just had to polish it up a bit. But once polished, I realized that it was significantly too short for the submission call and there was no good way to stretch it. So I sent that story out somewhere else and was left with less than a week to find something that worked. What clicked, suddenly, was a story I’ve been meaning to write since Foolscap in 2011 (funny how inspirational that little con has been, and how much it has done for my writing!). Combining some personal passions, “Absolution of the Fallen Star” dives into Medieval Arabic history, Morocco, and secret knowledge for a story that is pure horror…and a few other surprising things as well. I’m delighted that it was selected to appear, as it’s a story I’ve been wanting to tell for a while. I tried writing the story two other times for other anthology calls, and the time just wasn’t right. It appears the stars were right for it to appear here, in this form. And who am I to argue with the stars?

And now that you’ve gotten a look behind the scenes, it’s time for me to get back to novel edits/revisions.

No rest for the wicked, and whatnot.

Nothing has changed, I suppose. It’s just a number.

Some people obsess about turning older. As a kid, you want so bad to be an adult. As the years start sliding away, you want to be a kid again.

To hell with that. I fought hard for these wrinkles–these gray hairs. Time has not been easy on me, but I haven’t exactly been easy on time, either.

43 is a prime number, and here we are. I’m in my prime again. That’s something I suppose.

I celebrated by going to work. Afterwards, I had poutine at Pies and Pints, along with a bottle of Le Fin du Monde. Later still, there was a writing group at the Wayward. I submitted a story to a pro market, which brought my current total to eight stories out in circulation. I turned 43 doing what I love doing. Yeah, I spent hours dealing with a hack to my Windows Live account at work, and another few hours when I got home. It still all balanced out. It was an excellent day.

That story I submitted was rejected 4 days later. Nature of the game. As much as I’d like to hear back on other stories out there in the ether, it was the most recent. Funny how life is. I brushed the little guy off, looked for holes in his clothes, pinned a note to his jacket, and sent his ass right back out there the same day. For good measure, I sent a ninth story out there as well.

Nine feels like a good number. It’s a number of completion.

Completion feels good.

What else feels good is the agency hunt. The full manuscript for Ink Calls to Ink was requested by an agent on my last day at age 42. I couldn’t imagine a better birthday present. Maybe they will love reading it like I loved writing it. Maybe there is a day not to far from now when I’ll be announcing a big book deal. Maybe I can quit the day jobbery, hire one of my best friends to help manage my schedule, and go live in the desert and write.

There are a lot of maybes in this biz, kid.

Here’s what I know: My stock of short stories that I feel are good enough to sell is tapped out. If I want to submit anything else I have to wait for something to perhaps come back, or I have to write something new. That’s a good place to be. And I have no shortage of story ideas. I’m reading several knock-out good novels/novellas that Timid Pirate is going to be publishing later this year, and every one of them is crackerjack. I have some of the best friends in the world–they even braved opening night crowds, high ticket prices, and IMAX 3D to see The Avengers with me for my birthday. There’s a teriyaki place a few blocks away that makes spicy chicken teriyaki so good it’s like getting a handjob from Jesus. My bills are paid. My family and friends are healthy. Fried chicken and waffles might sound weird, but damn! I used to think Glen Campbell was hokey, but “Wichita Lineman” and “By the Time I Get to Phoenix” are sincerely awesome songs even now.

Sometimes the secret to happiness is not getting what you want, but instead wanting less and learning to appreciate what you have. When you do that, the world is a pretty good place. So I remind myself:

Find time to breathe deeply.

Live with mindful compassion.

Keep within sight of center at all times.

And always remember–you are in your prime.

I’ve been a bit radio-silent for a while, and for that I apologize. Just like I do every time I go radio silent, I suppose. This writing thing, I’m telling you people. It is not for the weak of heart or the lazy. It just isn’t. Between some tight writing deadlines, some pretty rigid (but self-imposed) editing deadlines, and two conventions (to say nothing of the day-jobbery), I’ve been a bit busy. The upside of all this is that I have all kinds of fun stuff to talk about. Today’s installment: what’s been going on in my world of short fiction.

In a recent flurry of submissions, I got six stories out—two which are now picked up, and four which are in the waiting period. The two that got picked up were both written in the last month, and other than that, are about as different as you could get. One was the high-octane sci-fi story “By Gods Damned and Bounty Blessed” which will be appearing in the upcoming Bulldogs! Anthology. I encourage you to go toss some money at the anthology so they can add even more amazing authors to the book before it’s too late. My story involves a tough-as-nails bounty hunter on a quest for revenge. The other story is called “Bethlehem Glen” and is atmospheric horror set in the early 80’s in the wilderness of central California. I can’t tell you where it’s going to appear—that much is a closely guarded secret for now—or too much about certain elements. But I can tell you that it features a trio of hapless bank robbers and their prisoner.

And I can also tell you that, despite no deliberate planning on my part and having them set galaxies apart, both stories found an unexpected intersection on the theme of religion.

In my sci-fi story, a bounty hunter goes to collect a conman passing himself off as a messiah in a small mining community. She quickly learns that her partner, a new recruit on the ship where she is assigned, is a priest of a small, possibly heretical sect.

In the horror, I got to play with the concept of cults and communes that seemed to be everywhere in the seventies—especially in California.

Two stories, three religious traditions, no waiting.

And it was interesting to me how that theme played out differently across the two genres.

When dealing with matters of fantasy/horror, there is a certain automatic acceptance of things of a supernatural nature. So when you bring religion/spirituality into a story of this nature, there’s a certain amount of baggage. A person of faith can either make a huge impact, or his lack of impact can be seen as a critique on how religion is a sham, or even how his faith is lacking. But to the best of my (admittedly limited memory) it’s rarely there just as a meaningless background element.

But in much sci-fi, it’s either a bit of characterization (like hair color or accent), or absent entirely. I know I’m setting myself up for a barrage of people citing exceptions. I’d actually kind of welcome that. But I still maintain that religion in sci-fi is largely a matter of individuality, or a political overlay. I can’t think of a single instance of someone calling on their Gods and actually have them listen.

Compared to fantasy novels (or horror, where the Gods are less than friendly), where something might actually happen, it’s a huge difference.

Does this mean that effective religion, with divine powers and worship that has real effects automatically kick fiction out of sci-fi territory? Is there room in sci-fi for a devout character of faith who maintains that faith despite all scientific evidence to the contrary? And does this devotion make him noble or a fool?

I’m honestly not sure of the answers to that myself. But it does make me want to explore it more.
I touch on it in “By Gods Damned and Bounty Blessed,” where one character is a priest of The Gun Saint.
I guess in the future, it’s all about who you worship that gets you the results you want.

Again, I encourage you to check out the Bulldogs! Kickstarter. The kind folks at Galileo Games have put up a short preview of my story there. It only gets more insane from there. Like, fist-fight with a God insane.

And when I can announce where the horror story is appearing, I heartily recommend you pick that up too. I can say without fear of contradiction, it’s one of the creepiest things I’ve ever committed to paper. And for me, that’s saying a lot.

My Seattle, the Colosseum Theater

The wisdom goes, you can’t edit what you haven’t written.

I know that as well as anybody. After all–I went a long time thinking I couldn’t write novels because I couldn’t stay focused for that long.

Part of becoming serious about my writing was finishing pieces. Not just novels, not just first drafts of stories, but really, truly finishing things. And I got pretty good at it. Novels written to completion and edited, stories given more than a cursory second-pass before sending out. (* I’m actually thrilled with the depth of rewrites/edits I’ve been doing on short fiction lately. That wouldn’t have happened five years ago!)

Lately, its been a bit more difficult.

This year, for every story I’ve finished, I’ve left two more without an ending, and maybe a third with a rough finish in desperate need of a rewrite. This has even happened to a story where I outlined the whole thing and had a theme before I put the first word down.

No dice.

Stumped.

I know it’s a cycle, or a phase, or whatever we’re calling it today. Pinning a name on it doesn’t make it any less frustrating. Neither does figuring out the root of the problem for each individual story. Let’s just focus on the three fungus-related misfires of the past 6-8 weeks.

The “isolation” story came to me when I was in a very particular mind-set, but it was too late, and I was too tired to actually start writing. When I was awake and trying to work from the notes, I couldn’t capture that same dreamy, isolated mindset, and the whole thing fell apart.

A Japanese mushroom story was inspired by a Twitter conversation and the desire to submit to a particular anthology from a publisher I really liked. I had two finished stories that would have fit that particular call, but mention was made of something outside of North America, something neither of these stories had going for it. After a bit of discussion, I had the idea for the new story. It has a strong beginning. The middle is kind of there. I love the central character. Damned if I know what the ending is, though. So for now, it sits, incomplete in the folder, the call for submission having come and gone.

The one about the cough and toxic mold was started a while ago, but resurrected recently. I finished it, but the events which were originally planned to take place over a few scenes got condensed down to a single big scene. The story was all there, but something was missing. It felt rushed. It read well. I liked the story and thought the ending was horrifying. And I’ll be honest, I really should have taken more time with it to figure out what was missing. The editor who rejected it (and rightfully so) was kind enough to point out what it needed. It was (and is) a good story, that could be, when fixed, great. Even with that final piece handed to me, have I bothered to revise and resubmit somewhere? Nope.

I know, I know, I know I should cut myself a bit of slack. I am wrapping up a massive edit on the novel. It’s not like I’m not finishing anything. I am.

At the moment, it just doesn’t seem to be very much short fiction.

In the meantime, these pieces will sit until the demand to be finished. When the time is right, I’ll go back to them. Or, if there really isn’t a full story there, I’ll strip it apart and use the pieces somewhere else.

But still, it’s frustrating and I needed the moment to vent. Now the moment is over and I have stuff to get back to.

Catch y’all on the other side of an edited chapter. You know…when it’s finished.

Pink Elephant

So in the interest of talking writing, let’s dredge out the old chestnut of scene descriptions. Specifically, let’s talk about something that’s real easy to overlook because we’re so used to seeing it, but that can be used to really sell the realism of a scene. Take a look at that picture, the glowing pink neon of the Elephant Car Wash. That sign is a landmark in Seattle. Most cities have something like that–several, in fact–roadside beacons designed to get butts in the door or sell product. Sure, anyone can toss in the Space Needle to show their story takes place in Seattle. But that doesn’t necessarily make it feel more real. Throw in the slowly-spinning Pink Elephant sign and you achieve two things–you’ve sold locals with your insider savvy, and for those who don’t know the sign, you’ve added a concrete detail that makes the place feel more real.

This works for Sci-fi and fantasy (though to a lesser degree, or at least different degree in primarily illiterate cultures). My story “Odd Jobs” in the Space Tramps anthology took place entirely upon a space station. Even so, there were commercial districts, and at one point, our protagonist books a hotel room. The name had changed since the last time he had been there, the old name painted over in color that was a close–but not exact–match to the surrounding walls, with the new hotel name in neon above it. Was any of this important to the story? Not really. But it was important in setting the sense of place.

Signs say a lot–not just their design, but their condition. Old brick buildings used to have signs painted on the sides, and many of these are now long out of date. A mention gives a place a sense of history–the faded name of a hotel that’s no longer there, the space now turned over to offices or apartments, a 24-hr coffee shop that’s been gone for decades and is now a small bar or boutique shop.

Different communities have exhaustive rules for what kind of signage is allowed, so give that a thought because it says a lot about the place. Are the signs lit from behind or carved or painted on? Are the list signs brightly colored or more muted? Huge and gaudy or small and tasteful. To you have the Bavarian-themed signs of Leavenworth, or Seattle neon?

Placement is important, too. Seattle has this huge Pepsi sign that’s somewhat of a landmark on Aurora. Thing is, it was built back when Aurora was known primarily as U.S. Route 99, the chief means of travel up the coast until the 60′s. Filled with neon tubing, it was a sight to behold. Though it’s still there, I don’t recall the last time the sign was lit up. It’s a poignant reminder of how people move on and patterns shift when big interstates connected the country.

For homework, I want you to look up next time you’re out and about. Pick out three distinctive signs/landmarks in your town. And for extra credit, what is one thing that the sign implies other than the name of the business or product?

Class dismissed.

Authorial Essentials

Edits on Ink Calls to Ink are officially at the halfway point, which was my goal. I hope to finish edits in February.

Part of the push to get edits done was to get a submission in to Clarion West. That was completed mid-month, including a synopsis of the novel (which was less painful than I anticipated).

I’m doing the Write One/Sub One challenge, but only on the monthly level. I’m going to count this one as a victory also. I rewrote an older story and cut it down from over 6,500 words to a lean submission-quality 5,000 words and got that sent out over the weekend. I also did a decent first draft of a new story last night and I hope to get an edit/rewrite on that before going to bed. I could sub it out tonight also, but I’d really rather take a little time with it to polish it up. Hopefully that will hit the mail next week.

I got one rejection and one sale this month off two different stories. The one that got rejected is going to get a slight rewrite and another polish before sending out in the next two weeks. The sale was to a newer publication called Bette Noire. “The Last Horse Out” will appear in their October issue.

All of this was done without making myself too sick, though the weather helped balance that out with a few work-from-home days to counter the days I was too sick to write.

Goals met.
Final Grade: B- (The story that got rejected could have benefited from an extra scene to make it less straight-forward. I rushed it, and the result was a rejection. Lesson learned.)

Now, to the disclaimer mentioned in the subject line.

I am going to let you down. No, really. I’m going to disappoint you. Probably not many of you, but enough merit a warning. I’m not proud of it–far from it. But the fact remains that the closer you get to my gooey marshmallow center, the better the chances are that I’m going to fail you somewhere down the road. If your interaction with me is on a fairly superficial level, you should get out unscathed.

I’ve had two voices arguing in my head about this for a while recently, both about what to say and about whether I should address it at all. See, the thing is that I gave my writing and related writerly things priority over, well, damn near everything else in my life last year. When my head started poking out of the shell this last few weeks, I realized that some pretty important relationships had paid the price. The going got tough, and I disengaged.

The cynic in me says that things change, people change, and situations change. It doesn’t look too closely at my fairly dismal track record at maintaining deep personal relationships for longer than five years. The cynic points out that the relationships that grew in the past year are a better fit for where I am in my life right now. And yes, I suppose there’s truth to that. But the sentimentalist in me is still sad for the changes and things lost. And I feel regret that there were times when I should have been there for people who I cared about, and I just wasn’t. I let them down and it’s as simple as that.

So in another few hours, I soldier on into February. Hopefully my eyes will be a little more open. I’m still a writer. I’m still planning on being productive. I don’t know how to change that, or even if I want to. Maybe I could stand to be a little less obsessive.

And I’ll try not to disappoint you.

Beware the wonders you are about to behold!

It’s been a hell of a year. If feels like I barely slowed down, and there were legitimate concerns that I was overworking myself. So let’s break it down and see what I got done in 2011.

Short Fiction: I had five stories published this year. Among those, one was a dark little clown noir story in a market I’ve been wanting to crack for a few years. One was the first non-Timid Pirate appearance of a Cobalt City character. One was the lead-off story in an anthology with a great table of contents. While five stories doesn’t feel like a lot, each individual story meant a lot to me. And I honestly didn’t spend much time sending out stories this year, so percentage wise, it felt great.

Novels: I finished my 10th novel last month. That leaves me with three books that I need to do rewrites and polishes on in the coming months. One is for a specific publisher, one is my mystery novel Murder Frontera which I need to polish and get on the agent hunt, and the third is the one I’m taking to World Fantasy in Toronto next year. That’s a lot of editing, rewriting, and polishing. But I have the tools I need and a good start, and I’m anxious to get underway.

Podcasts: We had three six-episode scripts that I wrote for the Cobalt City Adventures Unlimited audio drama podcast get recorded and produced (the third is in production now). And we won the Parsec Award for Best New Speculative Fiction Podcast or Team for 2011, so that’s something to be proud of. I also did several readings for the Wily Writers podcast and had some lovely thanks from two of the authors I recorded.

Publishing: Timid Pirate put out three original fiction anthologies this year. The third one, Finding Home, is not only the largest one we’ve done yet–it’s also got a ton of great stories! I’m super proud of what we’ve been able to do in just our first year, and of the authors for whom we were among their first publications.

RPG Work: I guess this is semi-official because I’ve seen the publisher Tweet about it. I wrote a role-playing game sourcebook for the Bulldogs! RPG earlier this year called Ports of Call. It’s deep in the editing process now, and I don’t know much more than that. But as gamer for the past 30 years, getting to do a sourcebook is kind of living the dream. Even better, it’s for a great game that’s incredibly well reviewed, and published by some genuinely awesome people. If you’re a gamer who likes their sci-fi with a side of blaster pistol, this is the game for you.

Community: Our little writing group that was homeless after a fire late last year at our main venue not only survived but blossomed. We added several new, talented, and dedicated writers to the table, and just expanded to a weekly group rather than meeting every-other week. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Writing can be a shitty, miserable, lonely way to pass the time. But having people around to share that journey makes it all worthwhile.

Personal: I’ve made some good friends this past year, both here in Seattle and around the world. If a person’s wealth is measured by the quality of the company he keeps, then I’m the richest man in Bedford Falls. (Apologies to Jimmy Stewart and Frank Capra.) My health hasn’t been the greatest, but compared to the scare I had last year, I’m in doing great! I’ll take a bout of the flu or a bad cold any day over a massive sub-dermal infection! I’m still gainfully employed and I haven’t been arrested for lewd behavior or being drunk in public, or anything else for that matter.

Now it’s just tying up some loose ends and clearing the decks.

2012 is right around the corner!

“The tango never stops in Buenos Aires. It goes on and on and we all dance to it in our time, helplessly drawn when fate initiates the cabezazo.” — from “Father Pena’s Last Dance,” Hannah Strom-Martin

Inspired by irrepressible Christine Yant, I have decided to adopt Fan Letter Sunday. And it’s largely because of this story, “Father Pena’s Last Dance” in Realms of Fantasy, August 2010, that I’m doing so.

See, I’ve reviewed books, movies, comic books, even bands–it’s how I share my love for what they’re doing. It’s my way to champion the things I enjoy and encourage more people to experience them. But I don’t really review short stories that appear in individual magazines. I don’t know why. Maybe I need to change that. Part of that might be because I went through a long period where I wasn’t reading short fiction in magazines or online, just anthologies. That changed when I made the decision to subscribe to a few spec-fic magazines for a variety of reasons.

That’s how I was introduced to Hannah Strom-Martin and Father Pena.

If I had come across the story in any other way and heard the words “vampire” or “Tango,” I probably would have just passed it over. And my life would be much poorer for that decision. I don’t care for vampire stories as a general rule. It seems like so much of what I come across is the same series of tired, recycled tropes trotted out one more time, like Halloween decorations a decade past their prime.

But “Father Pena’s Last Dance” is a revelation. Not only does it capture the magic, mystery, and music of Buenos Aires, it reinvents vampires in a way I never could have seen coming. And it made me want to learn Tango. The way you tied the vampires to passion, and through that, dance, was truly inspired. It has an amazing noir feel, a tragic inevitability, and at the same time it is undeniably sensual in a way I find most noir lacks. The day after reading, I was recommending it to anyone I could think of. Over a year later, and I still can’t shake just how much I loved the way this story came alive, shook me, and forced me to look at long-considered myths in new ways.

Thank you, Hannah, for “Father Pena’s Last Dance.” Sorry it has taken me over a year to tell you how much I loved the story. And I hope that, somehow, this fan letter reaches you.

For those of you who have yet to read this story, I encourage you to do so. You can currently buy a PDF of the August 2010 issue for $3.99 at www.rofmag.com and it’s well worth it. You’ll likely enjoy a few of the other articles and stories there as well.

Featuring "Odd Jobs"

My sci-fi noir story “Odd Jobs” leads off Space Tramps: Full-Throttle Space Tales #5 which goes on sale today. I’ve already read it, and it is a fun celebration of space opera fiction. Mine is a classic tale of fringe characters with uncertain motives, deals too good to be true, revenge, and a sex bot with a heart of gold. So I’m giving you a taste to whet your appetite. Here, have a few hundred words. On the house.

The bartender returned the smile. He left the bills on the bar. With a steady hand, he poured a pair of shots for the two of them. “Folks call me Chet. You got a name?”

Roscoe pursed his lips, wondering how much Iron Mike might have told this bartender. Considering the nature of his newfound employment was still very much undecided, he chose to play it close to the chest. “Haven’t you heard? Hull rats like me don’t have names anymore.”

It could hardly be further from the truth, of course. When a person had nothing, like most of the stowaways and drifters who scavenged for a meager existence in the bowels of the Django’s hull, a name was one of the few things they truly owned. He wasn’t surprised when Chet accepted the casual lie. The bartender would never understand what it was to live like vermin in the near perpetual darkness of the lower decks.

Chet lifted his glass, more focused on it than on Roscoe. “I got a tourist in here the other day, member of a delegation negotiating an embargo. He booked time with a consort bot I run. Like a sucker, I take cash. He went to town on my girl, and I have no way to collect on damages.”

Giant Bluebells at 7th and Union, Seattle

Foolscap is coming up next weekend.

If you’re not familiar with the Foolscap convention, answer these three questions: Do you like sci-fi/fantasy fiction and art? I’m not talking movies or tv, here. I mean the flat stuff. Are you a writer or artist of the above either a) just getting your foot in the door, or b) with a ken for low-key networking? Would you like to sit in a small workshop/panel about the industry without having to jostle for space with a Klingon just to get there? Do you want to soak up the genre for a few days without feeling overwhelmed by the other few thousand (or tens of thousands) of people there for just that same thing?

If you answered to any of the above, Foolscap is what you’re looking for. This and Norwescon, two sides of the same coin. Since discovering it a few years ago, I never miss it.

I just got my panel list for the weekend. And apparently, I’m going to be pretty busy next weekend.

Friday is my casual day–I get to run a short workshop on novel plotting at 10am. I’ve run something similar for friends and contacts for the past few years, but this will be my first “formal” run in a convention workshop setting. I’m super excited. Notes have been printed and I’ll be refreshing myself on the workshop tonight.

Then Saturday and I hit the ground running.
10am, a panel on sexy androids. Expect Roi from my Space Tramps story “Odd Jobs” to get a mention.
11am is a panel called Rust Never Sleeps: The Theme of Decay which should be a blast.
That gives me 3 hours for networking and lunch before Dreams in the New Depression at 3. With all the reading I’ve been doing for Timid Pirate’s next anthology, a more hopeful look at the post-apocalypse, I’m feeling prepared.
Then more time for networking and dinner and a fun little nightcap of a panel at 8pm about Real World Advancement Systems. My inner Bard is thrilled. My inner Urban Ranger will be plotting out a route home and how much I can drink to still do so safely.

Sunday at 11am I have the much anticipated Blind Spots in SF Fandom: When We’re not as Open Minded as We Think We Are, followed by Writer Inspiration: What Inspires You to Write? at 2pm.

A full weekend indeed. And not a dud among any of the panels I know about. The full panel list should be posted sometime before too long. But why wait? Get your ticket now and come join the fun!