Continuum final day

Last night I blogged too late, so tonight I am not sorting my notes. I figure it will give my blog entry a certain delightful sponaneity and get me to bed much earlier so I can actually wake up in time to go back to Canbera.

The day was a very slow start and I was no use to anyone. This was partly due to my blog-a-thon last night, but mostly due to a migraine. I was very proud that my first headache of the weekend was a migraine and took so long to come. I was even prouder that both Donna and Mum commented on how much I looked like death warmed up. The upshot of the zombie state was that I woke up at Continuum rather than getting there intentionally, and when my brain (eventually) came back into gear I discovered I had missed one of the panels I really wanted to see and that Richard Harland's reading had gone unnoticed. I scored hugs from nieces, though, and spent my slow period chatting to friends in the foyer, with a niece in tow. I introduced my niece as my daughter once or twice, and scored some good reactions: there were many people at Continuum in need of serious doubt in their lives.

Three things characterised my day. Lots of chats and friendships was one. Food was the second. Readings were the third.

I heard five readings altogether, and delivered my very own.

Poppy Z Brite's reading voice is almost identical to her writing voice and the effect is rather like the words leaping directly into your mind and not going via the page. The pace lends itself to reading aloud, too. The more northern bits of her accent are more obvious when she reads. Communicating all of this information is essential to the proper functioning of my soul tonight.

Glenda Larke's reading was annoying. I wanted to dump the convention and go straight and finish the book she started me on. And I couldn't [great sulks].

The funny thing is that Glenda doesn't know she is this good. Last night she was named one of the Voyager top ten authors (along with Jennifer Fallon) and she was still shaking her haed in disbelief today. Glenda was trying, I think, to prove that it all rested on about ten votes: we just laughed at her. Jenny has a better idea of her writing worth and was pleased as punch. I was all bubbly on both their behalves and for the fact that it is cool to see Austalian authors recognised as tops by the Australian reading public.

Robin Hobb's speech of honour was fascinating. She presented us with a bunch of insights into how writers see themselves and how writers are seen and how that view changes when a baby comes into the writers' life. This was good, but nothing new. What was new is that she then explored the physical settings for her Farseer and related books. She has lived in the Arctic and understands those hostile landscapes. I have always thought her settings were a player in her novels all by theemselves, and now I know more about why.

At some stage today the occupants of the Conjure table (while Robert Hoge was taking a break) got up to tremendous mischief. They listed alternate panels and authors descriptions for a shadow convention and covered the National Convention table with thoughts about these matters. I want to be on their "Grumpy old writers" panel. I am hoping Claire McKenna photographed what she and Sarah Endacott did. Anyhow, this means that Jack Dann and Neil Gaiman have female opposition in the creation of mayhem.

I got to talk to Lucy Sussex today. It appears that her new book is plagued by curious coincidences so I am not haunted by Pricess Ida and do not have to sing Gilbert and Sullivan backwards.

I didn't merely waste my day in idle chatter. I attended panels. Note the air of smug superiority in that statement. It meant I woke up properly in the afternoon, for one thing (I should apologise for the disjointedness of this entry - my mind is so tired it is falling to pieces).

The panel on gods and monsters had excellent speakers but didn't really take off. There were some funny moments, but the dynamic of the panel was slowed down by a chair who had to verbally footnote everything and offer his own interpretations throughout. I prefer the dynamics of an active panel to the dynamics of an active chair, I think.

I managed to make it to the research panel, and will blog that tomorrow. I managed to make it to the Corwainer Smith panel which I will also blog tomorrow (so you have something to look forward to).

On my way out from the Cordwainer Smith panel and to the next room, I ran into Trudi Canavan. She was short two panellists. Stephen Dedman and I found ourselves on stage, making up numbers for discussion on what the world would be like if Star Wars had not existed. It was a great deal of fun, especially as Karen Miller has an immense interest in movies and was a panel member secretly from the audience. We talked about everything from franchise figures to the role of memory in deciding what is epoch-making. I didn't take any notes, though, because that was the 6 pm panel and my body was rapidly winding down.

The closing ceremony took a fair while and saying farewells took even longer. Abut 30 of us ended up in the same Malaysian restaurant round 9.30 pm, in three or four different groups, which led to much table hopping.

I can't believe it is all over. It was an awesome and friendly convention. There must have been IQ tests *and* personality tests at the door, I think.

And now to sleep - I will finsh this tomorrow, from Canberra.

(no subject)

I haven't unpacked my notes, so I may never report on those last panels I attended yesterday. Secrets I will carry to my grave... unless someone asks for them, in which case I may deign to finish unpacking and type them up.

Today was very simple. Wake up. Look at time. Think about going back to sleep. Sit on side of bed wondering why I can't move. Collect clothes. Stumble through kitchen and mumble greetings on way to bathroom. Stagger back into kitchen to find Donna and Mum looking perky and chatting as if they have known each other for years.

After a little, Stu joined us, also looking perky. I decided at that moment that I hated my family and every single one of my friends, since I was too tired to work out who not to hate. I grudgingly gave everyone a second chance after two cups of coffee.

There were two very distinct phases to the trip home. Both of them summed up Continuum beautifully. The first was the foodie phase. We bought pastries from the otehrwise-shut Victoria market and then filled the car with Italian comestibles from a big supermarket that Donna had been introduced to by Lucy Sussex. Add that to the cherry apples and the wasabi peas and the haloumi-stuffed bread that I had brought and we were travelling in style. Lunch, for instance, was olive bread with Edam, the haloumi brad, and blood orange juice. The food was elegant and delicious. This was mainly due to Donna.

Stu and I were responsible for the descent from these heights. We decided that, since we had control of the music and the front seats, we would work our way through The Best of Queen, volumes 1-3 until the batteries in his iPod ran out. I think Stu's middle name is Crowley.

There were other signs of "Good Omens" in the car, hidden in my suitcase. My sister gave me more William stories for my book collection. I feel strongly that Richmal Crompton's William could face the Horsemen of the Apolcapyse all by himself, without a tricycle.