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Convergence #1
Jun. 10th, 2007 12:23 amMy Convergence report is going to be full of gaps. The first gap is the whole of Friday. I got a giant stack of work done yesterday, but it was all in Canberra. I've heard nothing but good of what happened in my absence, save from a particular Canberra attendee, who found the room party just a tad too merry and has spent the whole of Saturday finding her equilibrium. (That last statement sounded just a tad too like something from a club newsletter c 1930s. It's funny how overtiredness takes the brain.) What's not funny is that Chris Barnes brought his famous bottle of evil drink and I *still* didn't get to taste it. I need to work out if this is three conventions in a row or four that I've missed out. I would go to his panel tomorrow and heckle the history, except the panel includes the carrying of big swords and heckling might not be safe.
While I'm typing this, the ASIM crew are partying madly. I'm expecting "I will never drink again" statements" from all attedees.
This is a good con for room parties. New Zealanders keep saying "Why are there room parties here? Why couldn't we get room parties in New Zealand?" I look at them and think (bitterly, of course) "What use is a room party if I have to catch a tram home an hour before it begins." Yes, folks, I have a curfew, just like a local. It's the nicest of curfews, becuase it means I get to see my mother. Mum and I had cups of tea, ate persimmons and macadamia chocolate and sorted family heirlooms while everyone else worked hard developing hangovers. If you get to admire my newly-inherited family lace, please don't mention room parties, OK?
Ian Nichols wanted me to attend his presentation on alternate history today. He asked me three times. I kept explaining that historians implode when they attend presentations on alternate history, even ones by wise and sage beings such as Ian.
I might have imploded. It's quite possible. What's more likely is that I would have collapsed. I arrived at the convention three minutes before my first panel (yay for the superior driving skills of my kid sister and a record speed from the airport to Rydges), met friends for coffee straight afterwards, met friends for lunch straight after a trip to the dealer's room ('straight after' in Convergence-speak means after an hour's fascinating chat in corridors and foyers), came back and did another panel, then did a half hour presentation. All this on five hours sleep. It just would not have been fair on Ian to think it was his speech that made me implode. Mind you, historians do implode when faced with alternate history. It's a well-knwn fact.
Alisa Krasnostein (winner of many Ditmars) held court just outside Conference Room 2 most of the day. This made it very easy to catch up with her and with the rest of the ASif gang. There is a strange fascination watching her knit from an enormous and enormously gaudy ball of wool and wondering how far into Convergence it will last. There is an even stranger fascination in watching her courtiers ebb and flow around her. I wish I knew how she did the courtier-thing. I need to sit down and actch up properly with her tomorrow.
The registration table is another good place to be. The Convergence team are good and enthusiastic and efficient and understanding and yes, I keep bribing them with chocoalte. I keep bribing everyone with chocolate. (You should have seen the number of choc beetles flung round at the Ancient Food talk.) The thing is, though, the rego desk people deserve more chocolate than us ordinary mortals, and I intend to see they get it.
The only trouble with giving chocolates to all and sundry (apart from the *amount* of chocolate I'm getting through) is that I don't get to hear panels. I know the panels are excellent because contented audience noises create the backdrop for conversations: I'm getting the best conversations this convention. What did you always need to know? That Chuck McKenzie is dreaming of writing mashed potato without butter. That Glenda Larke can give a lucid explanation of the difference between Malaysian leeches and Australian leeches at the drop of a hat. That silver shoes make Kate Forsyth spin and twirl in corridors.
My best notes were from the panel on New Dangerous Visions. I have no idea what I said, but the other panellists had good thoughts. If you're after Canadian writers who do edgy stuff right now, try Nancy Kilpatrick, for instance, and if you're after British edgy writing then check out Farah Mendelson's "Glorifying Terrorism" anthology, and Ken McLeod's book "The Execution."
I was particularly fascinated by the thought that different countries have different dangerous visions: Canada is exploring gender; the UK is fascinated by terrorism. And my favourite question was whether dangerous visins need to feel challenging.
My other panel was worldbuilding 101 and I was the odd person out in a very good way. Ian Irvine gives the nuts and bolts of the geophysical and then I say "Start from people and find out their cultures then buidl your worlds." Poor Keith Stephenson moderated. Why poor? Ian and I enjoy talking :). Ian had the best props, BTW, and his free books beat my chocolate beetles hollow.
I had notes, but I completely forgot to use them. I made new ones as the panel progressed. It was fun to explain the exploration that is reading stories set in a world that started with something I wrote (New Ceres - go ye and read! but subscribe first) and it was even more fun to refine my Titanic theory of world creation. If you want the Titanic theory, you might have to ask, because this post is getting long and tomorrow is getting longer.
We all recommended books with good worldbuilding. Ian suggested Tad Williams and also Wurtz/Feist as a team (but not singly). I suggested Ellen Kushner, Jane Yolen and Glenda Larke, and Keith suggested Dune.
The Ancient Food talk was a lot of fun. I got to talk about food history and how it can improve the quality of fiction. I also got to make appalling jokes. About a dozen people ingested grains of paradise in a terribly scientific test of its aphrodisiac qualities. I suggested report-back tomorrow. Wnat to lay bets no-one reports back?
What else do you need to know? Nothing. Well, nothing except the brilliant book launch. I always want to read Marianne de Pierres' writing, and now I have to read Jason Nahrung's too. I've already run out of book-buying money, though, so I'll have to wait. And now you'll have to wait, because I've run out of notes and think just maybe I ought to sleep a little :).
While I'm typing this, the ASIM crew are partying madly. I'm expecting "I will never drink again" statements" from all attedees.
This is a good con for room parties. New Zealanders keep saying "Why are there room parties here? Why couldn't we get room parties in New Zealand?" I look at them and think (bitterly, of course) "What use is a room party if I have to catch a tram home an hour before it begins." Yes, folks, I have a curfew, just like a local. It's the nicest of curfews, becuase it means I get to see my mother. Mum and I had cups of tea, ate persimmons and macadamia chocolate and sorted family heirlooms while everyone else worked hard developing hangovers. If you get to admire my newly-inherited family lace, please don't mention room parties, OK?
Ian Nichols wanted me to attend his presentation on alternate history today. He asked me three times. I kept explaining that historians implode when they attend presentations on alternate history, even ones by wise and sage beings such as Ian.
I might have imploded. It's quite possible. What's more likely is that I would have collapsed. I arrived at the convention three minutes before my first panel (yay for the superior driving skills of my kid sister and a record speed from the airport to Rydges), met friends for coffee straight afterwards, met friends for lunch straight after a trip to the dealer's room ('straight after' in Convergence-speak means after an hour's fascinating chat in corridors and foyers), came back and did another panel, then did a half hour presentation. All this on five hours sleep. It just would not have been fair on Ian to think it was his speech that made me implode. Mind you, historians do implode when faced with alternate history. It's a well-knwn fact.
Alisa Krasnostein (winner of many Ditmars) held court just outside Conference Room 2 most of the day. This made it very easy to catch up with her and with the rest of the ASif gang. There is a strange fascination watching her knit from an enormous and enormously gaudy ball of wool and wondering how far into Convergence it will last. There is an even stranger fascination in watching her courtiers ebb and flow around her. I wish I knew how she did the courtier-thing. I need to sit down and actch up properly with her tomorrow.
The registration table is another good place to be. The Convergence team are good and enthusiastic and efficient and understanding and yes, I keep bribing them with chocoalte. I keep bribing everyone with chocolate. (You should have seen the number of choc beetles flung round at the Ancient Food talk.) The thing is, though, the rego desk people deserve more chocolate than us ordinary mortals, and I intend to see they get it.
The only trouble with giving chocolates to all and sundry (apart from the *amount* of chocolate I'm getting through) is that I don't get to hear panels. I know the panels are excellent because contented audience noises create the backdrop for conversations: I'm getting the best conversations this convention. What did you always need to know? That Chuck McKenzie is dreaming of writing mashed potato without butter. That Glenda Larke can give a lucid explanation of the difference between Malaysian leeches and Australian leeches at the drop of a hat. That silver shoes make Kate Forsyth spin and twirl in corridors.
My best notes were from the panel on New Dangerous Visions. I have no idea what I said, but the other panellists had good thoughts. If you're after Canadian writers who do edgy stuff right now, try Nancy Kilpatrick, for instance, and if you're after British edgy writing then check out Farah Mendelson's "Glorifying Terrorism" anthology, and Ken McLeod's book "The Execution."
I was particularly fascinated by the thought that different countries have different dangerous visions: Canada is exploring gender; the UK is fascinated by terrorism. And my favourite question was whether dangerous visins need to feel challenging.
My other panel was worldbuilding 101 and I was the odd person out in a very good way. Ian Irvine gives the nuts and bolts of the geophysical and then I say "Start from people and find out their cultures then buidl your worlds." Poor Keith Stephenson moderated. Why poor? Ian and I enjoy talking :). Ian had the best props, BTW, and his free books beat my chocolate beetles hollow.
I had notes, but I completely forgot to use them. I made new ones as the panel progressed. It was fun to explain the exploration that is reading stories set in a world that started with something I wrote (New Ceres - go ye and read! but subscribe first) and it was even more fun to refine my Titanic theory of world creation. If you want the Titanic theory, you might have to ask, because this post is getting long and tomorrow is getting longer.
We all recommended books with good worldbuilding. Ian suggested Tad Williams and also Wurtz/Feist as a team (but not singly). I suggested Ellen Kushner, Jane Yolen and Glenda Larke, and Keith suggested Dune.
The Ancient Food talk was a lot of fun. I got to talk about food history and how it can improve the quality of fiction. I also got to make appalling jokes. About a dozen people ingested grains of paradise in a terribly scientific test of its aphrodisiac qualities. I suggested report-back tomorrow. Wnat to lay bets no-one reports back?
What else do you need to know? Nothing. Well, nothing except the brilliant book launch. I always want to read Marianne de Pierres' writing, and now I have to read Jason Nahrung's too. I've already run out of book-buying money, though, so I'll have to wait. And now you'll have to wait, because I've run out of notes and think just maybe I ought to sleep a little :).