WriterCon 2006 - Sunday and Monday
Sunday
Sunday morning was understandably slow-moving. I feel deeply for whomever was on a 10:00 panel, and sincerely hope there were at least as many audience members and panelists present! I had meant to attend at least the 11:30 panel, but by the time I wandered downstairs and finished breakfast, it was quarter after and I hadn't even showered yet. I decided to go for a swim instead.
I had breakfast, by the way, with Joe (of Kilt Fame), and didn't recognize him for the first two minutes he talked to me. "Oh!" said I. Later on, a group of us decided that "I didn't recognize you with pants on" would be a great WriterCon motto.
Anyway, I managed to fit in another swim (and showing-off of the Supercute New Swimsuit), but swimming by yourself isn't exactly an amusement park of entertainment. I floated around for awhile and enjoyed the sun whenever it peeked out, then lounged by the pool reading a Sweet Potato Queens book that was just made for lolling about by a pool.
I lolled so successfully, in fact, that I was nearly late for my interview with yourlibrarian. She thanked me for my time, but come on - a chance to ramble on about myself and fandom to a captive audience for an hour? What's better than that?
I scooped up another PB&J from the Con Suite before heading down to the afternoon panels. I didn't get into them as much the others, but being tired and slightly hung-over probably had a bit to do with that. I think people were getting tired all around, and less careful about what they were saying (I heard some vaguely inflammatory remarks about controversial topics like “Seeing Red,” for example, which had been noticeably absent earlier in the con).
I joined up with autobadgirl, nwhepcat, gwynnega and a dozen others for dinner at the Mexican place again. Service wasn't exactly hopping - it took twenty minutes before we even got water, I think, but the food was good, and the margueritas delightful.
I was tired, but compelled to be further social when we got back, so I headed to the Con Suite for the Dead Plot Bunny party. The incomparable shaddyr made me an island Mai Tai, which actually served to make me even more sleepy (hey, I’d already marinated in booze this weekend - I might as well finish with a flourish!). I was close to turning in when femmenerd sat next to me. We had met a few times over the weekend, but didn't really get a chance to talk much until Sunday night. Well, we made up for it. I think we sat there for an hour straight, just talking to each other about various fannish, academic, and fannish-academic things. And she likes Anne of Green Gables! Yay new LJ friends!
I was tickled pink to see that someone ‘adopted’ my binder of fic in the library. All that Faith and Ana-Lucia goodness went to a good home with ricktboy!
It's tough to decide which day to file this under. I may have gone to bed early, but I woke up again when my roomies came to bed at 2:00, and we accidentally stayed up talking until 4:00. Really, we meant to go right back to sleep, but things kept coming up! They needed immediate discussion! Anyway, it'll probably be another two years before we have the chance again, so best to take advantage.
Monday
I woke up Monday in time for one last leisurely breakfast. You know what I love? Going down to breakfast alone and never worrying about finding someone to eat with, no matter what time it was. Cons ROCK. I packed everything up and actually got out of the hotel on time. I grabbed a shuttle to MARTA and made my way to Centennial Park to see the Fountain of Rings.
I was a little turned around when I got off at the stop, and dragging my suitcase along behind me wasn't helping. I had already figured out the right street when a pamphlet-handing-out guy came up to me to help. Stupidly, I let him walk with me the two blocks, point at the park, and demand a tip. I gave him $2, because I'm weak, and he had the nerve to insist that his MARTA pass costs him $8 before asking for more. Um, no. For $8, you could have given me a ride on the damn suitcase, pal.
He got me all grouchy and anti-social, though, and it was awhile before I calmed down. Plus, I was all sweaty and had to dig through everything to find a ponytail holder, and then a guy sat on the other end of my bench and changed his baby's very stinky diaper. I was not feeling very charitable toward Atlanta in general, and wishing I had just booked an earlier flight home.
The fountain show was kind of neat, though. No Bellagio, but still fun to watch, and I liked seeing the kids enjoy it even more. I saw a little girl bouncing up and down on her feet while watching and thought fondly to myself, “Now, when's the last time you bounced up and down out of sheer energy and excitement?” Then I answered, “Um, last night.” Cons ROCK.
I still had two hours before I had to leave for the airport, and found myself looking up at a building-sized poster of Anderson Cooper. I turned around, saw the CNN Center, and promptly decided that I would tour the studio. I ended up checking my luggage at a nearby hotel during the tour (a solution which I came up with myself, thank you very much, Mr. Tour Guide Who Suggested I Carry Them With Me During the 55-Minute Tour Down Eight Flights of Stairs). I had twenty minutes before the next tour, and amused myself by watching the episode of Judging Amy I was currently TiVoing back home courtesy of BabyParents (gotta love a gift shop with TVs showing TBS and TNT among the news stations).
The tour itself was quite interesting. It was unreal to watch the live airing on the TV screen and see the back of the anchor's head, delivering that very report. I saw Kyra Phillips and Betty Nguyen recording live, and Chuck Roberts actually waved to me! I'd hate to work in a newsroom with tour groups coming through to watch me every ten minutes. Mostly because of tourists like me, who noted with glee that one of the researchers wasn't watching CNN on her little desk TV, but a soap opera. Ha!
After the tour, I got conflicting directions to the MARTA station (which, incidentally, had been my problem before as well). There were two different stations I could have walked to go one stop on their line before transferring to the line going to the airport. I staggered on with my suitcase, wondering which one I had been sent off to, until I arrived and saw that I had actually walked all the way to the transfer point. Sigh. Guess that solved that problem.
Finally, finally, I made it to the airport, where I could buy my $9 sub and soda for a 4:30 lunch (food was apparently left out of the day's schedule). Uneventful flights, although I got stuck in another window seat with 2/3 the foot space as the seat next to me. Luckily, my seatmate only had a small briefcase, and we traded storage areas. I watched a little Joan of Arcadia until my battery died mid-episode, at which point I was finally forced to actually write in my journal, as I had said I would do on the plane all along.
My new purple luggage worked fabulously, btw. I found it immediately at Baggage Claim both times, which obviously means it was meant to be. My credit card bill, on the other hand, had a slight heart attack this morning. July was a big travel month for me, see. I went home for Fourth of July and with WriterCon and my little pre-con shopping splurge, I kind of spent, oh, a fair sum. That's going to have to, oh, stop. Especially with moving costs coming up!
Anyway. I had an awesome time. Such a great, great, awesome, wonderful, exciting weekend. I had even more fun than last time. I knew a few more people to start out with, but I just plain tried to get out there more. I met more new people this time - just walked up to groups of them and plunked myself in their midst. I had a million fascinating conversations and have a notebook full of writing tips and drabbles and ficlets and even an outline of an Ana-Lucia fic I now have to write. I haven't felt this inspired in awhile!
I’m going to quote sweptawaybayou now, from her awesome con report:
Rob, the bartender summed it all up for me. He'd been watching us all since Thursday. Serving us drinks and trying to keep us happy and he told me and Blue that he was amazed and happy to see people that have such a passion about something. So much that we even made him want to go to a seminar. Any seminar.
He said that he'd seen so many people come in and out of the hotel that just live their lives. They work and they sleep and they eat and they just simply exist. But our group, the writercon group had made him realize that there are people out there that have a true passion for living our lives.
And I agree.
That we have this fragile, perfect, too~quick moment here on Earth and we chose to spend three days together. In a hotel. In workshops and seminars, in restaurants and pools and bars and just sitting around in someone's room talking about what moves us. What makes us smile. What makes us squee and what makes us cry and what makes us laugh and the pretty ... and the love. And most of all?
The fandom.
The friendship.
Thank you.
So, yes. Thank you to everyone who hung out with me. You made this an incredible experience. I'll see you in two years!
Sunday morning was understandably slow-moving. I feel deeply for whomever was on a 10:00 panel, and sincerely hope there were at least as many audience members and panelists present! I had meant to attend at least the 11:30 panel, but by the time I wandered downstairs and finished breakfast, it was quarter after and I hadn't even showered yet. I decided to go for a swim instead.
I had breakfast, by the way, with Joe (of Kilt Fame), and didn't recognize him for the first two minutes he talked to me. "Oh!" said I. Later on, a group of us decided that "I didn't recognize you with pants on" would be a great WriterCon motto.
Anyway, I managed to fit in another swim (and showing-off of the Supercute New Swimsuit), but swimming by yourself isn't exactly an amusement park of entertainment. I floated around for awhile and enjoyed the sun whenever it peeked out, then lounged by the pool reading a Sweet Potato Queens book that was just made for lolling about by a pool.
I lolled so successfully, in fact, that I was nearly late for my interview with yourlibrarian. She thanked me for my time, but come on - a chance to ramble on about myself and fandom to a captive audience for an hour? What's better than that?
I scooped up another PB&J from the Con Suite before heading down to the afternoon panels. I didn't get into them as much the others, but being tired and slightly hung-over probably had a bit to do with that. I think people were getting tired all around, and less careful about what they were saying (I heard some vaguely inflammatory remarks about controversial topics like “Seeing Red,” for example, which had been noticeably absent earlier in the con).
I joined up with autobadgirl, nwhepcat, gwynnega and a dozen others for dinner at the Mexican place again. Service wasn't exactly hopping - it took twenty minutes before we even got water, I think, but the food was good, and the margueritas delightful.
I was tired, but compelled to be further social when we got back, so I headed to the Con Suite for the Dead Plot Bunny party. The incomparable shaddyr made me an island Mai Tai, which actually served to make me even more sleepy (hey, I’d already marinated in booze this weekend - I might as well finish with a flourish!). I was close to turning in when femmenerd sat next to me. We had met a few times over the weekend, but didn't really get a chance to talk much until Sunday night. Well, we made up for it. I think we sat there for an hour straight, just talking to each other about various fannish, academic, and fannish-academic things. And she likes Anne of Green Gables! Yay new LJ friends!
I was tickled pink to see that someone ‘adopted’ my binder of fic in the library. All that Faith and Ana-Lucia goodness went to a good home with ricktboy!
It's tough to decide which day to file this under. I may have gone to bed early, but I woke up again when my roomies came to bed at 2:00, and we accidentally stayed up talking until 4:00. Really, we meant to go right back to sleep, but things kept coming up! They needed immediate discussion! Anyway, it'll probably be another two years before we have the chance again, so best to take advantage.
Monday
I woke up Monday in time for one last leisurely breakfast. You know what I love? Going down to breakfast alone and never worrying about finding someone to eat with, no matter what time it was. Cons ROCK. I packed everything up and actually got out of the hotel on time. I grabbed a shuttle to MARTA and made my way to Centennial Park to see the Fountain of Rings.
I was a little turned around when I got off at the stop, and dragging my suitcase along behind me wasn't helping. I had already figured out the right street when a pamphlet-handing-out guy came up to me to help. Stupidly, I let him walk with me the two blocks, point at the park, and demand a tip. I gave him $2, because I'm weak, and he had the nerve to insist that his MARTA pass costs him $8 before asking for more. Um, no. For $8, you could have given me a ride on the damn suitcase, pal.
He got me all grouchy and anti-social, though, and it was awhile before I calmed down. Plus, I was all sweaty and had to dig through everything to find a ponytail holder, and then a guy sat on the other end of my bench and changed his baby's very stinky diaper. I was not feeling very charitable toward Atlanta in general, and wishing I had just booked an earlier flight home.
The fountain show was kind of neat, though. No Bellagio, but still fun to watch, and I liked seeing the kids enjoy it even more. I saw a little girl bouncing up and down on her feet while watching and thought fondly to myself, “Now, when's the last time you bounced up and down out of sheer energy and excitement?” Then I answered, “Um, last night.” Cons ROCK.
I still had two hours before I had to leave for the airport, and found myself looking up at a building-sized poster of Anderson Cooper. I turned around, saw the CNN Center, and promptly decided that I would tour the studio. I ended up checking my luggage at a nearby hotel during the tour (a solution which I came up with myself, thank you very much, Mr. Tour Guide Who Suggested I Carry Them With Me During the 55-Minute Tour Down Eight Flights of Stairs). I had twenty minutes before the next tour, and amused myself by watching the episode of Judging Amy I was currently TiVoing back home courtesy of BabyParents (gotta love a gift shop with TVs showing TBS and TNT among the news stations).
The tour itself was quite interesting. It was unreal to watch the live airing on the TV screen and see the back of the anchor's head, delivering that very report. I saw Kyra Phillips and Betty Nguyen recording live, and Chuck Roberts actually waved to me! I'd hate to work in a newsroom with tour groups coming through to watch me every ten minutes. Mostly because of tourists like me, who noted with glee that one of the researchers wasn't watching CNN on her little desk TV, but a soap opera. Ha!
After the tour, I got conflicting directions to the MARTA station (which, incidentally, had been my problem before as well). There were two different stations I could have walked to go one stop on their line before transferring to the line going to the airport. I staggered on with my suitcase, wondering which one I had been sent off to, until I arrived and saw that I had actually walked all the way to the transfer point. Sigh. Guess that solved that problem.
Finally, finally, I made it to the airport, where I could buy my $9 sub and soda for a 4:30 lunch (food was apparently left out of the day's schedule). Uneventful flights, although I got stuck in another window seat with 2/3 the foot space as the seat next to me. Luckily, my seatmate only had a small briefcase, and we traded storage areas. I watched a little Joan of Arcadia until my battery died mid-episode, at which point I was finally forced to actually write in my journal, as I had said I would do on the plane all along.
My new purple luggage worked fabulously, btw. I found it immediately at Baggage Claim both times, which obviously means it was meant to be. My credit card bill, on the other hand, had a slight heart attack this morning. July was a big travel month for me, see. I went home for Fourth of July and with WriterCon and my little pre-con shopping splurge, I kind of spent, oh, a fair sum. That's going to have to, oh, stop. Especially with moving costs coming up!
Anyway. I had an awesome time. Such a great, great, awesome, wonderful, exciting weekend. I had even more fun than last time. I knew a few more people to start out with, but I just plain tried to get out there more. I met more new people this time - just walked up to groups of them and plunked myself in their midst. I had a million fascinating conversations and have a notebook full of writing tips and drabbles and ficlets and even an outline of an Ana-Lucia fic I now have to write. I haven't felt this inspired in awhile!
I’m going to quote sweptawaybayou now, from her awesome con report:
Rob, the bartender summed it all up for me. He'd been watching us all since Thursday. Serving us drinks and trying to keep us happy and he told me and Blue that he was amazed and happy to see people that have such a passion about something. So much that we even made him want to go to a seminar. Any seminar.
He said that he'd seen so many people come in and out of the hotel that just live their lives. They work and they sleep and they eat and they just simply exist. But our group, the writercon group had made him realize that there are people out there that have a true passion for living our lives.
And I agree.
That we have this fragile, perfect, too~quick moment here on Earth and we chose to spend three days together. In a hotel. In workshops and seminars, in restaurants and pools and bars and just sitting around in someone's room talking about what moves us. What makes us smile. What makes us squee and what makes us cry and what makes us laugh and the pretty ... and the love. And most of all?
The fandom.
The friendship.
Thank you.
So, yes. Thank you to everyone who hung out with me. You made this an incredible experience. I'll see you in two years!