2008 DargonZine Writers’ Summit
I figured I’d spare you the long version, and only post this very abbreviated version of this year’s DargonZine Writers’ Summit travelogue.
Thursday I flew Boston to Denver to Portland, Oregon for this year’s DargonZine Summit. Neither flight was very pleasant, nor was the cab ride to the hotel.
Although I was in by midafternoon, this year’s host, Jim, wasn’t going to pick me up until the following morning, so I had the evening to kill. I opted for a Thai place that was within walking distance, but had to ad lib when I discovered that it was closed for renovations. Fortunately, my new phone (Sprint’s Samsung Instinct) has a GPS function which allowed me to find the next nearest Thai place and get directions.
The food was tremendous. It really capped the day. On the way back to the hotel, I picked up some goodies at Safeway and was harassed by the cashier to pick up one of their store discount cards. Never mind that the nearest Safeway is 400 miles from home…
Friday morning Dafydd swung by to chat, and then Jim and his wife Naomi showed up with their car. We promptly stopped at 7-Eleven (on 7/11) to get our free Slurpees, which sucked. We stopped at a sushi place for lunch, where I had a decent pork schnitzel, carefully relabelled “tonkatsu” by the Japanese.
Then came the two hour drive to the B&B in Seaside, where we met Rena, Jon, Liam, and his wife Mayellen. Then we carpooled down the coast to Cannon Beach to eat, stroll the beach, and view the famous Haystack Rock monolith.
Back home, the power was out, but fortunately it came back on before sunset could interrupt our marathon four-hour session of land-grab game Carcassone, which I almost won.
Saturday working sessions included some administrative items from the guys who are running the show, now that I’ve bowed out. Then Jim sprang an unplanned 90-minute writing exercise on everyone, which kinda mucked up the schedule. While the group strategized about their next story arc, I grabbed Jim’s car for a quick bank run.
Lunch involved searching for a rumored but non-existant Thai place, then finding a Thai place downtown and turning away at the last second in favor of a really mediocre American family restaurant.
Then we rented two four-person surrey-style quadracycles and headed down the coast to the rocky edge of the beach, where I took the opportunity to wade in the Pacific Ocean. Then back to town to return the surreys and wander around at random, including some disappointing stores, bumper cars, and mini-golf.
We played crazy card game Fluxx until it was time for the lengthy drive to our dinner spot. Four of us grabbed a car and hopped to it, stopping only long enough to rouse the napping others, who wouldn’t get out of the house for fifteen more minutes.
Dinner was at a huge log cabin style restaurant called Camp 18 (not Latitude 18, which was a restaurant down in St. Thomas). The theme was an old logging camp, which felt to me like a huge YMCA camp lodge. We were seated as a private party in one of the two lofts under the rafters, overlooking the rest of the dining room, which was pretty cool.
Back home, we organized a poker game using the chips Dafydd had purchased for the Las Vegas Summit. I wound up losing $8, which is tolerable.
Sunday’s working session was nothing major, and then we hit the road up to Astoria, where we went up to the Astoria Column, a big column (surprise!) set atop one of the hills surrounding the town and overlooking the mouth of the Columbia River.
Having some time left over, we decided to hike about two thirds of a mile to the Cathedral Spruce, which is basically a big tree with a small hollow at the base. We got there, took a few pictures, and headed back.
Then it was down to the riverfront for a two-hour river tour on a stinky working fishing boat. We went upriver along the shore, then turned back into the wind and toward the estuary. The whole way back, the forty-foot boat was tossed up and down by four- to five-foot swells and bigger. We all got quite wet, but my pocket camera survived, unlike the two I brought Waverunning in St. Thomas.
Ashore, we found food at the unprepossessing wharfside Wet Dog Brewpub, where I indulged myself a bit with a milkshake, lemonade, and a burger with jalapeno and Canadian bacon.
Back to the house for an evening of Carcassone. I passed on it, and passed out on the couch.
Monday morning four of us were out of the house by 6:30am for the trip back to the Portland airport. Goodbyes all around, which were more difficult for me, since I may never see some of these people again.
One of the things I wanted to do on this trip was to let people adjust to the idea that I won’t be very involved in DargonZine anymore and achieve some closure for everyone. I’ve also made it clear that I will not be writing any more fiction, nor will I be attending any more Summit gatherings. It’s been two years since I announced my intention to step down, and I think everyone’s ready for it: myself, the project leadership, and the other writers.
I’ve already talked a little bit about how big a change this is for me. It’s letting go of one of my greatest creations, and closing the book on something that has been a large part of my life for nearly all of the past 24 years. There’s an awful lot that I’ll miss about it: the Summits, the people, the praise, the recognition, and the creative outlet. And I really don’t know what is going to arise to take its place in my life. But leaving DargonZine is one of several major transitions I’m going through right now, and I just have to do it and find out what’s next for me.
It might be a bit melodramatic to compare it to life as a whole, but DargonZine has been a long, wonderful ride, and I’ve been blessed to share the journey with dozens of people, many of whom have become very dear to me and important parts of my life. I really hope to retain those connections, even though I will not be participating in the project anymore.