Conflux - Saturday

In summary, a long and busy day. Wonderful overall (and I so want to worship at Nick Stathopoulos' feet again - this time it's for he himself, not just his art - he is gentle and generous and funny and wonderful) but with some interesting moments. If I sound incoherent it's being just a tad overtired. It would have been worse, but Laura and Margaret and Jane and Grae are being very good about giving me lifts - life is definitely easier when I don't have to catch public transport.

I found my missing notes. In fact, I found a whole wad of missing paper on the table at a panel I was on. Instead of working out which of my notes were worth keeping, I spent a full ten minutes examining them to find out which novel draft I had left behind. It wasn't a novel at all, though, it was a section of a paper I gave a while back on modern attitudes to the Middle Ages. So the Middle Ages has intruded on Conflux.

It's Sunday. I've been waiting for Sunday. Sunday is all about introducing people to my brand-new acronym. Remember this, for it's important:

Every New Novel Needs Ants

ENNNA. It's the shape of today. Or at least the shape of an hour this afternoon. It was either invent an acronym or import many ants. The acronym seemed easier. Ants are hard to herd.

And all the rest of my notes are either still missing or are hidden under today's chocolates. Let me tell you about Saturday, instead.

I made a dalek with Karen Vaughan this morning. Also a sonic screwdriver. Margaret and Jack Heath also made daleks and sonic screwdrivers, which meant I got to meet Jack Heath. It was all great fun and I strongly recommend the Creative Corner as a way of spending happy time. Besides, everyone needs a pet dalek. As well as the ants, of course.

I've always thought that Conflux was about writers, but there are as many artists as writers, this time round. And they are all so very cool.

I want to be an artist in my next life. Then I could draw an elegant picture of Jim Minz doing his Baen Travelling Slideshow, as Aimee did, or I could cluster in the deserted banquet room and look intense and enthused and talk about mysterious things, like Nick S (at whose feet I must worship) and Marc McBride and Shauna O'Meara. Or I could wander round carrying mysterious and amazing sculptures, like Lewis Morley (who I will always remember for his and Marilyn Pride's work on a Superman movie - they made the train set that was blown up). In fact, Lewis' arms full of strange alien bug then stranger even more alien head, as if his art transformed into something else every step, might do to represent them all. I wonder if any of these wonders will reach the auction table?

By 'them all,' I don't just mean the artists I just mentioned. There are more of them. The Creative Corner always has something happening and the best box in the whole Convention is the scrap box sitting lazily on the table in the Corner. Somehow Tara has persuaded people that it needs decorating. I so want to flaunt my talent by drawing my amazingly wobbly stick-figure. It's the only thing I can draw with any certainty, apart from a henohenomoheji or a foo.

For me, the artists are definitely the cool kids this convention. I love it that there are so many and that they're so very generous with their talents.

What else is cool? Dave Luckett's new book is. It's wry and witty and just what I need in my life. It's also a bit of a surprise. It contains submarines. I plan to have a submarine weekend next weekend, reading Dave's new book and then Emma Tupper's Diary.

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That last post was getting long. Mind you, there's a bunch of things you don't need to know. For instance, you don't need to know that I was very noisy the whole day. Rambunctious, that was me. Not a calming influence on panels. Not a calming influence anywhere, in fact.

You certainly don't need to know that Sean McMullen and I argued again and that Bill Wright was forced to point out that the gender balance in 11th century texts was not really the subject of the panel. Dave Luckett pointed out that Sean and I argue from entirely different bases. All I know is that a little smile goes round the audience when Sean says something and I react.

It was the same topic as the panel at Continuum, but Bill and Sean covered the key points quickly but thoroughly and then we got to explore whole new areas. My personal plea was to reclaim women such as Ruth Park and Joan Lindsay as having written speculative fiction. 'Playing Beattie Bow' and 'Picnic at Hanging Rock' belong to us!!

I was rambunctious before then, on the Canberra Showcase panel. It was interesting to trace different careers. Tracey O'Hara has had a magic ride so far, whereas Simon Petrie and myself were plagued by too many early self doubts. Jack Heath thought Canberra was lacking in writerly fellowship, whereas I thought it was full of writing friends and support. It's a complex world.

I signed books at the mass book signing, as one does. I also fed sweets to everyone, including Emily Rodda and Marc McBride. This was my one cahnce to get to meet Emily Rodda, since things are so busy, and I impressed her muchly by happenstancically having her favourite sweets.

Thinking about the writers at the mass signing, I want to create a Super Hero Pantheon for them. Jack Heath, for instance, is the Flash Gordon variety of hero. Rob Hood is something darker, and probably defeats giant monsters then weeps over their graves. Cat Sparks hides behind her camera, but come the night, she dons a cape and saves the world. Alan Baxter is the Batman type of hero, using martial arts rather than super powers to preserve the universe from woe. Maxine is a horse-riding heroine, the female Zorro.

Something tells me that you'd rather know if the banquet was OK than have more super heroes. Pity. I so like the thought of everyone at Conflux being a super hero. The only one I'm certain of is my mother. Conflux gets to see her particular superheroicness at 3.30 today. During my Mythology and Cultural respect panel, oddly enough.

The banquet went well, I think. The food was astonishingly filling. Everyone got as much as they could eat. The pirate conspiracy to take over the world made a good start.

Daylight savings starts in five minutes. I need sleep.

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I'm not round. It might be because the advent of Daylight Savings has spiralled me into a strnage new reality. It might be that I'm at Conflux today. It also might be that my email is down for a little and I'm actually here, but only contactable through Gillian(dot)Polack(at)anu(dot)edu(dot)au.

All or parts of the above paragraph are true. The other thing that's true is that I have a booklaunch today. Luck door prizes! And books. There will be books on sale. One of mine and one with me in it. But... Lucky door prizes!

See you on the other side. The other side will be less nervous than this side, may have more email, but still has daylight savings. If I'm not there, it's because I've teased my Queensland friends once too often about faded curtains and hungry cows and they have squelched me. My Queensland friends are beautiful people, but very tall, and two of them are at Conflux. Do I make curtain jokes, or do I not. That is the question?

PS Pity Marianne isnn't here. Then I could make jokes about sunlight, curtains and pink fluffy bunnies.

PPS If my Queensland friends kill me, at least I will have died in a good cause.