I have been told, by people who know me better than I know myself, that I do not come across in writing as I do in person. So when I sat down to write this inaugural journal entry I felt a little unsure of what to say. This is especially relevant, I think, as a lot of you who are reading this have met me in person recently. I hope.
I have been attending the World Fantasy Convention in San Diego, CA, for the past few days. I came ostensibly as an artist, but really as an undercover writer testing the waters. A good detective could probably infer this from my business card: on one side is a beautiful piece of my artwork. On the other, a name, two URLs, and an email address. One of the URLs is for Radio Grimbald, the other leads here.
You are, I hope, one of the people I gave a card to. I am never certain, you see, once the initial flush of social contact fades, once we fall back into our regular routines, our regular lives, how many of you will take the time to venture out and learn about mine.
To those of you who came, thank you, and welcome. And I am sorry if I come across as different somehow here. I am really the same person. Honest. Promise.
You will notice there is not a lot of artwork here. Oh, there is some (and yes, it is all by me), but it is not what you would call the focus of this site. This site, you see, is for the stories. You can find those over on the left, under the pretty covers (again, my art). You may purchase them for piddling amounts of money from respectable internet retailers such as Amazon and iTunes for your smart phone, kindle, iPad or personal computer. If this is your only recourse, I recommend the Kindle app. It is quick, clean, and displays color. And free, it is also free.
I hope you like them.
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I am at the World Fantasy Convention, and it is late on Friday night. It’s a place that is difficult to write about when you’re in the middle of it. I think I may have to process it for a few days before I can strain something meaningful out of it. Or maybe that is just the tired speaking. So for now, some disjoined observations will have to suffice.
World Fantasy is a strange place. I was given a glass of wine last night by Garth Nix. This night he signed a book for my stuffed dragon (who had earlier nearly been kidnapped by Peter S. Beagle).
I have drawn three pictures for other people. It started with one for our Guest of Honor, Mr. Neil Gaiman. Then I did one for our Toastmaster, Connie Willis. Finally I did one for Cat Mihos, who is Mr. G’s assistant. I did this because I was not allowed to give Mr. G his picture in person, and I have never given a picture to someone it was not for. So I decided to do one for Ms. Mihos to make up for that. It must get hard, I have to imagine, to constantly be receiving things for other people. If I’m going to be imposing on someone’s time, I’d like to make up for that in whatever small way I can.
I keep comparing World Fantasy to the Furry cons I’ve been to, and that is not fair. Because the Furry cons have fursuiters. These are brave people who dress in head-to-toe faux-fur animal costumes and dance around for fun and pictures.
As a result, Furry cons have a sort of magic to them that is distinctly absent from World Fantasy. I think this is ironic.
There was another conference going on today. It meant that they had to move some panels from one room to another at the last minute. This conference seemed to be one of lawyers.
The general class of attendees here are of a more respectable bend than furries. But the lawyers made all of us look like furries.
Funny how society finds ways of stratifying itself, even when no one is trying to. I think that is silly; because we are all people, when you get right down to it, and we all share the same basic hopes and desires. From the lawyer to the editor to the writer to the furry (some of whom are, in fact, lawyers and editors and writers).
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I had better stop now. I am getting tired enough that I am writing some very silly things, and then having to delete them because they make no sense.
Tomorrow there is an In Memoriam panel for Diana Wynne Jones. I am looking forward to that in an achey, throaty kind of way. It’s this weird sort of twisted comfort at being able to be sad with a bunch of other people at once. I shall write more of it later.
Goldeen
San Diego, CA
