2008-12-01 10:03![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nightrythm
nightrythmLosCon was a blast. I’m finding myself riding this high of meeting new people; amazing, intelligent and erudite people. My mind has been stimulated and I’ve been re-invigorated.
On Friday, I got to the con and helped set up the coin booth. I looked at the schedule and marked off what I wanted to do. True to form, I didn’t read who the panelists were or the detailed description of the panels. I just chose panels based on name alone.
So I go to the “Race and Racism in SF” panel. I figure this should be a pretty interesting discussion. I walk in and sit in the back (‘cause I’m a delinquent) and lo and behold, one of the panelists is eyeballing me. My brain then kicks into gear and I realize I know him. (I saved the squeeing and jumping into his arms until after the panel.) D is a witty man who always has something interesting to say, this bodes well for the panel. Turns out the panel itself was mediocre. The upside was that I’m back in touch with one of the coolest guys on the planet.
After the panel D and I got together to catch up on say, 10 years worth of “what have you been up to”. While we were sitting there, up walks the big guest author for the weekend. Honestly, I’ve never read his work and the only reason I know his name is because a blog I read talked about him. So I shake his hand, tell him it’s great to meet him and then proceed to babble about the blog where I heard about him… yeah, that’s me, with the endless words falling out of my face that have no relevance to this man’s life. *sigh* I found out later that he didn’t really notice. (Of course, he could have just been saying that to make me feel better, but what do I care, it worked.)
So Saturday rolls around and I keep bumping into D, but never when Patch is around. That night, we do dinner with the Money Changers, as is our wont (sp?). Everyone else decides to go to the game room. Me, I want to drink and hang out with D. Eventually, I make contact with him and we sit in the lobby with a group of his friends chatting. These guys are funny and intelligent and we have amusing, geeky conversation, coupled with discussion about what went wrong with the race panel that day. (Yes, there was a second race panel on Saturday. There was even one on Sunday, but none of them were on it, so I didn’t bother.) As the night wore on, we ended up in D’s room (no, not like that) drinking and talking some more, where Patch eventually joined us.
Sunday, Patch and I roll into the con sometime after noon (having gotten home at 3am or so). We managed to catch the end of one of the Religion in SF panels (yes, there was more than one). I accompany Patch to get an authors autograph. Barbara Hambly (who’s work I really enjoy) is the other author signing at the time. Her line is empty. I mentioned to Patch how I felt really bad about it and he tries to get me to go over to her and tell her how much I like her work. Ummm… yeah, no.
I know this will come as a shock to you, but I have trouble talking to strangers. I avoid it like the plague. It’s one thing when I’ve got business to transact, but it’s another thing entirely when I’m just expected to walk up and start a conversation. I don’t as a general rule, feel like I have anything to say that strangers want to hear. Also, I don’t want to look stupid. After all, I know what I think of fanboys, the last thing I want to do is be one.
Patch of course, points out that she’s here to talk to people. This doesn’t help. It just makes me turn red and *aw, shucks* and really, just start telling him how much I don’t have to say to this woman. It was just like arguing with my mother about why I have nothing to say on my book report. I just get all stressed out and worked up and my brain shuts down even more. Patch even threatened to make me walk home!
So we get to within a few feet of the table and I take a deep breath and step across to her. I open my mouth and out comes “Your boxes are in my closet”. Yup, that was me. I had failed to properly rehearse “I have boxes filled with your books in the bottom of my closet. I’ve just moved so I don’t currently have access to them. Would you please sign my con booklet.” So, yeah, I fumbled, babbled and I think, eventually made clear that despite my idiocy and apparent lack of English, I admired her work. I got her signature and then slunk back to Patch and told him it was his fault I fumbled it.
Soon after that, I ended up glommed to D and his friends again. I think it’s ‘cause that’s where the booze was, but it could have just been the company and conversation. That’s really what the weekend ended up being about, good people and good conversation. I think I spent a decent amount of time just being a fly on the wall, listening. It seemed like the majority of D’s friends are writers. Many of them are published and they are, as a rule, intelligent and interesting. At times I felt a little on the outside, in that “wow, I’m sitting with the cool kids” kind of a way. But at other times I felt like I was a part of the conversation and had something to contribute.
As a result of all this wonderful interaction, I’ve been bitten by the writing bug. No, I’m not back to the delusions of my youth that someday I’m going to be a newspaper magnate or a great poet. I do however, want to see if I can portray people in a realistic light. You know, develop characters.
Much of my writing is really world building. L once told me that my writing lacked color and description, so I made a concerted effort to be more descriptive in my work. I think, when you look at some of what I’ve written (not the general posty stuff here, but my columns and vignettes) you can see that I’ve made progress.
Also, at various points I’ve been told my writing is dry or a bit too direct. Copying L’s style I’ve made an effort to be more chatty and I think that’s helped as well.
I want to start some writing exercises. I’m not sure how, or where I’ll get them, but I need/want to expand my creative mind again. We’ll see how it goes. I am after all, busy and lazy which means, at some point I’ll probably give up on the extra effort, but for now I’m energized.
On Friday, I got to the con and helped set up the coin booth. I looked at the schedule and marked off what I wanted to do. True to form, I didn’t read who the panelists were or the detailed description of the panels. I just chose panels based on name alone.
So I go to the “Race and Racism in SF” panel. I figure this should be a pretty interesting discussion. I walk in and sit in the back (‘cause I’m a delinquent) and lo and behold, one of the panelists is eyeballing me. My brain then kicks into gear and I realize I know him. (I saved the squeeing and jumping into his arms until after the panel.) D is a witty man who always has something interesting to say, this bodes well for the panel. Turns out the panel itself was mediocre. The upside was that I’m back in touch with one of the coolest guys on the planet.
After the panel D and I got together to catch up on say, 10 years worth of “what have you been up to”. While we were sitting there, up walks the big guest author for the weekend. Honestly, I’ve never read his work and the only reason I know his name is because a blog I read talked about him. So I shake his hand, tell him it’s great to meet him and then proceed to babble about the blog where I heard about him… yeah, that’s me, with the endless words falling out of my face that have no relevance to this man’s life. *sigh* I found out later that he didn’t really notice. (Of course, he could have just been saying that to make me feel better, but what do I care, it worked.)
So Saturday rolls around and I keep bumping into D, but never when Patch is around. That night, we do dinner with the Money Changers, as is our wont (sp?). Everyone else decides to go to the game room. Me, I want to drink and hang out with D. Eventually, I make contact with him and we sit in the lobby with a group of his friends chatting. These guys are funny and intelligent and we have amusing, geeky conversation, coupled with discussion about what went wrong with the race panel that day. (Yes, there was a second race panel on Saturday. There was even one on Sunday, but none of them were on it, so I didn’t bother.) As the night wore on, we ended up in D’s room (no, not like that) drinking and talking some more, where Patch eventually joined us.
Sunday, Patch and I roll into the con sometime after noon (having gotten home at 3am or so). We managed to catch the end of one of the Religion in SF panels (yes, there was more than one). I accompany Patch to get an authors autograph. Barbara Hambly (who’s work I really enjoy) is the other author signing at the time. Her line is empty. I mentioned to Patch how I felt really bad about it and he tries to get me to go over to her and tell her how much I like her work. Ummm… yeah, no.
I know this will come as a shock to you, but I have trouble talking to strangers. I avoid it like the plague. It’s one thing when I’ve got business to transact, but it’s another thing entirely when I’m just expected to walk up and start a conversation. I don’t as a general rule, feel like I have anything to say that strangers want to hear. Also, I don’t want to look stupid. After all, I know what I think of fanboys, the last thing I want to do is be one.
Patch of course, points out that she’s here to talk to people. This doesn’t help. It just makes me turn red and *aw, shucks* and really, just start telling him how much I don’t have to say to this woman. It was just like arguing with my mother about why I have nothing to say on my book report. I just get all stressed out and worked up and my brain shuts down even more. Patch even threatened to make me walk home!
So we get to within a few feet of the table and I take a deep breath and step across to her. I open my mouth and out comes “Your boxes are in my closet”. Yup, that was me. I had failed to properly rehearse “I have boxes filled with your books in the bottom of my closet. I’ve just moved so I don’t currently have access to them. Would you please sign my con booklet.” So, yeah, I fumbled, babbled and I think, eventually made clear that despite my idiocy and apparent lack of English, I admired her work. I got her signature and then slunk back to Patch and told him it was his fault I fumbled it.
Soon after that, I ended up glommed to D and his friends again. I think it’s ‘cause that’s where the booze was, but it could have just been the company and conversation. That’s really what the weekend ended up being about, good people and good conversation. I think I spent a decent amount of time just being a fly on the wall, listening. It seemed like the majority of D’s friends are writers. Many of them are published and they are, as a rule, intelligent and interesting. At times I felt a little on the outside, in that “wow, I’m sitting with the cool kids” kind of a way. But at other times I felt like I was a part of the conversation and had something to contribute.
As a result of all this wonderful interaction, I’ve been bitten by the writing bug. No, I’m not back to the delusions of my youth that someday I’m going to be a newspaper magnate or a great poet. I do however, want to see if I can portray people in a realistic light. You know, develop characters.
Much of my writing is really world building. L once told me that my writing lacked color and description, so I made a concerted effort to be more descriptive in my work. I think, when you look at some of what I’ve written (not the general posty stuff here, but my columns and vignettes) you can see that I’ve made progress.
Also, at various points I’ve been told my writing is dry or a bit too direct. Copying L’s style I’ve made an effort to be more chatty and I think that’s helped as well.
I want to start some writing exercises. I’m not sure how, or where I’ll get them, but I need/want to expand my creative mind again. We’ll see how it goes. I am after all, busy and lazy which means, at some point I’ll probably give up on the extra effort, but for now I’m energized.
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