Invading MadisonLandia for WISCON!
UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. What a whirlwind GD weekend, man.
Friday went like this...WORK WORK WORK. Get distracted at work. Not want to be at work. Thinking about leaving for Wisconsin for a writing convention. Getting a headache. Listening to everyone in the workroom talking way too loudly about their grandkids and grilling small animals and big animals and BBQ sauce and their four day weekends and meanwhile my headache is stupid and blegh, but not screamy, but I am like whatever and WORK WORK WORK some more.
And then.
Then.
I get to the point where I am all Bartleby, "I would prefer not to."
So I leave work 3 hours early and go to...
The magical land of Madison.
No, seriously, Madison is frikkin awesome. The houses are all Victorian pretty and rambly and they look like they should all be 1890s or 1950s boarding houses. They have porches. PORCHES that I want. Or balconies. I dig it, man. Plus on Saturdays they have this EPIC farmers market that goes all around the town square in front of the capital building. SNAZZY.
Each year fantasy and sci-fi writers plague Madison for WisCon, a feminist sci-fi and fantasy writing convention.
I admit, this year I was frazzled. I should have taken Friday off. Officially, the con starts Friday. Panels and readings are going on. But I couldn't spare the dang vacation time. BAH! But Anyways, I got there and it was beautiful because I walked in the door to two beautiful friends (Ms. Katie and Ms. Alex) who swooped me off to eat a Himalayan joint a jaunt down State Street. Nom to the frikkin oh yeah. And because I descended on WisCon later than normal, by the time we got back to the room and I was
registered and had my badge and what not, it was time to MAKE THE PARTY ROUNDS!
This is how it is. Panels and readings and business by day. Hotel parties by night. Writers, they are a mad lot. Usually a mad, drunk lot. Meaning, I changed out of my gray pin-up dress before anyone could swill, sidestep then spill on me.
There was karaoke...did you know that "99 Luft Balloons" is really an apocalypse song? ME NEITHER? Benjamin Rosenbaum kindly explained the spec-fic nature of the song to me after he sang it in German. I think it was German. His rendition was impressive and sounded much more punk rock than new wave. I liked it infinitely better than the original. Speaking of Mr. Rosenbaum, he is a FAB writer. You should buy his short story collection, The Ant King and Other Stories.
Then there was the Queers Dig Time Lords party. Because yes, absolutely yes, there needs to be a LGBTQ Dr. Who party. The party was in honor of the book of essays, Queers Dig Time Lords: A Celebration of Dr. Who by the LGBTQ Fans Who Love It, put out by Mad Norwegian Press.
Quite honestly, there were a zillion parties on floor six and I went to all of them and then I fell over into bed, wherein I PRACTICED!
What could I possibly practice in bed? Nothing lascivious last Friday, my darlings. I had to read aloud and time my novel excerpt and give it another go-through because on Saturday I was scheduled for a reading. POW! That's right. Who be reading all up at a con? Me! I figure if this is gonna be the only con I go to this year, I need to damn well read at it. And I did. BUT FIRST! There was lots of other stuff.
Saturday hit and DANG! there was some hella good programming going on. Favorites of the day:
Strong Female Characters Vs. Kickass Babes - where Alex Bledsoe, Holly McDowell, Julia Dvorin, Rebecca Holden and Caroline Pruett discussed what made a strong female character outside of sheer physical strength.
Outer Secrets - Was a poetry reading by The Secret Poetry Cabal. - HAIL ERIS AND ALL THAT IS HOLY, what a hella good poetry reading. I mean, crap. I lose words thinking about it. There were about eleven readers and every damn one of them was phenomenal. Standouts were Amal El-Mohtar, Julia Rios, Gwynne Garfinkle, oh hell. All of everyone who read at this reading was mind blowing
THEN IT WAS TIME! Time for my reading. OK, well, first there was more delicious food and some random booth-cuddling with pretty ladies I hadn't seen in a year, BUT yeah, reading time.
I am always a bit shakey and nervous before a reading. It doesn't matter that I've done hundreds of these, by now. Doesn't matter if I practice. My stomach is fluttery and my hands want to shake, no matter how many times I've read through my piece.
Can I say that, wow, just wow, I read with some incredible broads? Lisa Bradley...if you don't know her, you should. She kicked my ass with her poetry. Alex Dally McFarlane is an academic spec fic writer that always makes me feel smarter after having read or heard her. Shira Lipkin is a wonderwoman who seems able to be all places at once and will write anything if she likes the person doing the double-dog-daring her to do it. Our reading was called Spindles and Spitfire. This was the program description:
Join us for a reading packed full of sinister whimsy, hidden hearts, folkloric sensibilities and SNACKS! Lisa Bradley dances with the skeletons in her closet. Shira Lipkin will apparently write anything if you dare her to on Twitter. Alex Dally MacFarlane works at a spindle of bones and gold. Patty Templeton writes hellpunk in a handbasket, full of ghosts, freaks and fools.
And so we kicked ass and gave out candy. THEN!
TWO PEOPLE! not one, TWO! Came up to me and told me that they came to the reading because they wanted to hear more of my novel, which they had heard part of last year. And I was like WHAT? WHAT? HOLY CRAP! You remembered me? And my novel? And you want more? I mean, OF COURSE YOU WANT MORE! YES! I WILL FINISH THIS DAMN THING! And so it will be.
Did I mention I am almost done? Like for reals? Like I have a to-do list that is less than one page of a yellow legal pad and SHIT IS GETTING MARKED OFF EVERY DAY! Whap. Pow. Zap. Huzzah. June 7th it's going to beta readers.
There was more. There always is. My more included getting home, a man with a banjo, the new Arrested Development and writing a hellton.
Smoochie boochies. I'm out.
Friday went like this...WORK WORK WORK. Get distracted at work. Not want to be at work. Thinking about leaving for Wisconsin for a writing convention. Getting a headache. Listening to everyone in the workroom talking way too loudly about their grandkids and grilling small animals and big animals and BBQ sauce and their four day weekends and meanwhile my headache is stupid and blegh, but not screamy, but I am like whatever and WORK WORK WORK some more.
And then.
Then.
I get to the point where I am all Bartleby, "I would prefer not to."
So I leave work 3 hours early and go to...
The magical land of Madison.
No, seriously, Madison is frikkin awesome. The houses are all Victorian pretty and rambly and they look like they should all be 1890s or 1950s boarding houses. They have porches. PORCHES that I want. Or balconies. I dig it, man. Plus on Saturdays they have this EPIC farmers market that goes all around the town square in front of the capital building. SNAZZY.
Each year fantasy and sci-fi writers plague Madison for WisCon, a feminist sci-fi and fantasy writing convention.
I admit, this year I was frazzled. I should have taken Friday off. Officially, the con starts Friday. Panels and readings are going on. But I couldn't spare the dang vacation time. BAH! But Anyways, I got there and it was beautiful because I walked in the door to two beautiful friends (Ms. Katie and Ms. Alex) who swooped me off to eat a Himalayan joint a jaunt down State Street. Nom to the frikkin oh yeah. And because I descended on WisCon later than normal, by the time we got back to the room and I was
registered and had my badge and what not, it was time to MAKE THE PARTY ROUNDS!
This is how it is. Panels and readings and business by day. Hotel parties by night. Writers, they are a mad lot. Usually a mad, drunk lot. Meaning, I changed out of my gray pin-up dress before anyone could swill, sidestep then spill on me.
There was karaoke...did you know that "99 Luft Balloons" is really an apocalypse song? ME NEITHER? Benjamin Rosenbaum kindly explained the spec-fic nature of the song to me after he sang it in German. I think it was German. His rendition was impressive and sounded much more punk rock than new wave. I liked it infinitely better than the original. Speaking of Mr. Rosenbaum, he is a FAB writer. You should buy his short story collection, The Ant King and Other Stories.
Then there was the Queers Dig Time Lords party. Because yes, absolutely yes, there needs to be a LGBTQ Dr. Who party. The party was in honor of the book of essays, Queers Dig Time Lords: A Celebration of Dr. Who by the LGBTQ Fans Who Love It, put out by Mad Norwegian Press.
Quite honestly, there were a zillion parties on floor six and I went to all of them and then I fell over into bed, wherein I PRACTICED!
What could I possibly practice in bed? Nothing lascivious last Friday, my darlings. I had to read aloud and time my novel excerpt and give it another go-through because on Saturday I was scheduled for a reading. POW! That's right. Who be reading all up at a con? Me! I figure if this is gonna be the only con I go to this year, I need to damn well read at it. And I did. BUT FIRST! There was lots of other stuff.
Saturday hit and DANG! there was some hella good programming going on. Favorites of the day:
Strong Female Characters Vs. Kickass Babes - where Alex Bledsoe, Holly McDowell, Julia Dvorin, Rebecca Holden and Caroline Pruett discussed what made a strong female character outside of sheer physical strength.
Outer Secrets - Was a poetry reading by The Secret Poetry Cabal. - HAIL ERIS AND ALL THAT IS HOLY, what a hella good poetry reading. I mean, crap. I lose words thinking about it. There were about eleven readers and every damn one of them was phenomenal. Standouts were Amal El-Mohtar, Julia Rios, Gwynne Garfinkle, oh hell. All of everyone who read at this reading was mind blowing
THEN IT WAS TIME! Time for my reading. OK, well, first there was more delicious food and some random booth-cuddling with pretty ladies I hadn't seen in a year, BUT yeah, reading time.
I am always a bit shakey and nervous before a reading. It doesn't matter that I've done hundreds of these, by now. Doesn't matter if I practice. My stomach is fluttery and my hands want to shake, no matter how many times I've read through my piece.
Can I say that, wow, just wow, I read with some incredible broads? Lisa Bradley...if you don't know her, you should. She kicked my ass with her poetry. Alex Dally McFarlane is an academic spec fic writer that always makes me feel smarter after having read or heard her. Shira Lipkin is a wonderwoman who seems able to be all places at once and will write anything if she likes the person doing the double-dog-daring her to do it. Our reading was called Spindles and Spitfire. This was the program description:
Join us for a reading packed full of sinister whimsy, hidden hearts, folkloric sensibilities and SNACKS! Lisa Bradley dances with the skeletons in her closet. Shira Lipkin will apparently write anything if you dare her to on Twitter. Alex Dally MacFarlane works at a spindle of bones and gold. Patty Templeton writes hellpunk in a handbasket, full of ghosts, freaks and fools.
And so we kicked ass and gave out candy. THEN!
TWO PEOPLE! not one, TWO! Came up to me and told me that they came to the reading because they wanted to hear more of my novel, which they had heard part of last year. And I was like WHAT? WHAT? HOLY CRAP! You remembered me? And my novel? And you want more? I mean, OF COURSE YOU WANT MORE! YES! I WILL FINISH THIS DAMN THING! And so it will be.
Did I mention I am almost done? Like for reals? Like I have a to-do list that is less than one page of a yellow legal pad and SHIT IS GETTING MARKED OFF EVERY DAY! Whap. Pow. Zap. Huzzah. June 7th it's going to beta readers.
There was more. There always is. My more included getting home, a man with a banjo, the new Arrested Development and writing a hellton.
Smoochie boochies. I'm out.