Here are the pics from today, but I am too much mucho tired to caption them. Will do so tomorrow. For now... they are Mysterioso.
I am back to caption.
Goal of the day was to make it in time for the Connie Willis reading. But I had to sign up for the day first, so we were a bit late. Of course, signing up had to be this Slow Process, with nice Volunteer Man pecking slowly away at the keyboard. Double checking whether I wanted my real name on my nametag (which I had already indicated on the sign up sheet he made me fill in.) Yes yes, real name. Only the first name? Yes. All caps or only one cap? ... ... ! [Here's me DYING to get to Connie. But at the same time, one can't be rude to kind sci fi conventioneer volunteers. Connie wouldn't approve.] Doesn't matter, I say politely.
Meanwhile Fernando was photographing this lovely Jedi Knight.
At Worldcon you can photograph just about anyone you meet.
It's like saying "nice to have met you."
But people in costumes especially expect it, which is coolio.
Connie was the first one reading, from her book due in February, Blackout. I am in Le Dying Suspense for her book. It's written in the same time travel universe as two of her other books, and one short story. It's about the bombing of London in WWII, which is something she has been particularly fascinated with since writing Firewatch. Willis is supa good at writing touching stories, without being maudlin. This one should be sooo supa good. She doesn't put out a book a year, she's definitely a Craftsperson and Supa Researcher.
The other two readings weren' so hot, though maybe it's hard to judge after hearing Willis. When we clapped for the first guy, he said: "thanks for clapping, Connie's fans." He quickly explained the premise of his book, which I didn't understand at all, so that made the rest of it seem pretty unappealing. The last guy was a bit funnier, but he wrote in second person, which I dislike. "You are sitting in a bar. You look up and..." It feels like you're in a Choose Your Own Adventure. I got through the first chapter. But then he switched characters and did a second chapter, and I lost the whole thread of the story.
After that we made our way to the front--Fernando was mucho ahead of me. He wanted to ask Connie for a photo (I had told him, as the Owner of the Camera, that he was in charge of getting Connie Pictures) because he had trouble focusing the camera while she was talking. She was all "most certainly" and then I showed up and Fernando said "do you mind if we include my wife, she's your biggest fan!" And she was supa patient and gracious. I lurv her, and lurv my husband for scoring the photo because I would have been WAY too shy to ever ask. (And that was after I acted pants all the way to the event, because we were going to be late.)
This was a panel on distribution and marketing. The distribution side I mostly know from working in le bookstore, but still interesting to hear an editor-type from Tor's perspective. And the agent too. And the marketing part was more useful and confirmed some things I'd read on blogs.
As you can see, Yoda was quite into it. But I suspect he just
had a crush on the tall lady with the cute dress and the
thick eyebrows.
("Rowr!" thought Yoda as he munched on his mini Ritz.)
Also: I liked this girl's hair.
Then off to a panel on race representation in sci fi art. After racefail 09
I needed to get in SOME sort of panel like this. The guy on the left is Israeli, and
didn't really know why he was on the panel. Which was funny. The moderator
was the guy in the middle, a comics-type, and he was funny. But he freaked out
when Fernando brought up Racefail in a question, because he had some friends
who were le hurt by what went down. But the two ladies (don't have a pic of the
other one) were all "Racefail was not fail, it was coolio and useful." So the panel ended
and they all went off in a tither, the woman not-pictured determined to have a
discussion with the moderator man. Fernando said that Moderator Man must hate him
for having brought it up. But I said, well you can see all the peeples of color went
off together afterwards, and they doubtless had a smashing good conversation
because of you.
We didn't get a photo of the next panel. It was about social scientists
and whether they too can be Evil Science Geniusi in sci fi stories.
The moderator was funny--a social psychologist named
Sparks, who insisted
that social scientists were already running the world and had nothing to
worry about.
We thought we were doing quite well in terms of panels and risked another. I was torn between
one for First Time Writers (supposed to be "tongue in cheek") and one on George
Lucas and whether he's ruined sci fi films or not--how he changed them.
While Fernando thought the Lucas might be a mistake, it was closer, and it didn't
seem right to be at a sci fi con and not talk Star Wars. (I was, after all, wearing
my Chewie is My Copilot t-shirt, and carrying beanie Yoda.)
Yoda settled in, all excited... We both expected an interesting conversation
about sci fi films, blockbusters, and such. After all, the other panel discussions
were very intelligent.
But Fernando was right to be wary of this one.
It's been FIVE YEARS since the last new Lucas movie came out.
And yet.
All these people wanted to talk about was how much they hated
the newer SW films.
I mean.
Seriously.
Seriously?
I was interested in these debates when the movies first came
out. But now it's like... hello... are we still talking about this??!!
So you hated the movies, big fucking deal. Let's move on!!
They had a much bigger room than was needed, because clearly all the
Intelligent Star Wars Fans had already realized (perhaps from attending
other cons) that this would simply be an anti-Lucas rant fest, and wisely attended
First Time Writers or The Persistence of Form and Ritual or Quebec Genre Cinema
The Vikings.
Thing is... I hate most movie critics. I discovered decades ago that they're
all closet stand-up-comedians-come-Oscar-Wilde-wannabes. They don't
care about intelligently criticizing movies, they just want to be soooo clever
and witty and recognized for their daring and cleverly worded scathitude.
Gag me with a smurf.
The moderator, one
Daniel Kimmel, was a Prime A Example of this type.
He was, as the Brits would say, a prat. O the irony as he sat there talking
about Lucas' ego, when his own ego was about to blow up the room through over-
inflation. And I couldn't even walk out, cause he would have thought I was
An Offended Star Wars True Believer. And I refused to give him the satisfaction.
I was BORED because we weren't talking about the actual announced subject.
And because he was a wanker. And whenever something interesting or intelligent was
said, he was just "hmm yes" and moved on until he got to someone who would say something brilliant and original like: "What about the horribleness of Jar Jar! And Ewoks!' and
then he was off again. (And I would like to say... I know what a good moderator looks
like, because that's all Teaching Assistants are. Your whole job is to take the most
random student comments, and spin them into an INTERESTING discussion.)
He hardly called upon
any of the other panelists to speak, he just wanted to hear himself saying his
tired jokes about Lucas, which unfortunately elicited laughs from the crowd
who clearly were there for the same thing--to Be Boring.
I made one comment: "I think one influence Lucas had on film was the imagination
he fired in my generation. When you watch the original movies, you still get that feeling
of wonder and excitement, and you can see that in the people who grew
up and made things like Battlestar Galacictica, which is an example of an
intelligent and interesting sci fi series [as opposed to most sci fi movies,
which we all agreed were mostly about special effects.]"
But first, when he called upon me to speak, he had to make an O So Clever
comment about my t-shirt (which he could see had a SW logo, but he of course
couldn't read and see its--as Georgia would say--Cleverosity.) You see the other
Big Clever Amazingly Deep and Insightful Critique from him and the
audience was that Lucas is just out to make loads of money.
Wow, no one's ever said that one.
So when he saw my t-shirt logo he was all: Yes, you who has given money to Lucas.
So I said, in my girly-innocent voice: "It says Chewie is My Co-pilot. It's a double-
edged joke, a spiritual joke." (It's a play on the Christian phrase that was
popular for awhile, "Jesus is My Co-pilot." My cleveroso brother bought it
for me. But it was too cleveroso for this crowd.) (And I'd like to add that every one
of those "O Lucas and his money!" people in the audience ALL OWN A COLLECTION
OF ACTION FIGURES. I'd bet my life on it.)
And finally, on top of it all... he and the other panelists didn't even know their
SW shit. It was all "well he originally said there'd be 9 parts" which is a SW myth.
(Lucas set out to write ONE movie. He wrote and wrote and ended up with a ton
of backstory, as many writers do. And then realized there was way too much material
for one movie, and thought he might need 9 parts.
But he managed to tell the latter part of the story in 3. And then when he got
the chance, gave us the backstory. End of.)
And they insisted that to this day the original Star Wars movie doesn't exist
in DVD. Ummm yes? Hello? "Oh but it must say "A New Hope." Uhhh no? Proof
here.
Dumbass.) The only good part of the whole thing was when Fernando put his hand
up at the end and said he loves Jar Jar. Here was this critic dude, trying so hard to
Be Shocking, when if he really wanted to shock, all he had to do was profess love
for Jar Jar. Fuul.
It was all quite horribiloso. It was 10 PM by then and we called it a day. We sat
down to eat the last of our snacks. Here is Fernando having an animated convo
with a janitor. One of the Decent Star Wars Fans came by and smiled: "Are they still
debating?" "No," I replied, "he's talking to the janitor." And, might I add, he's explaining
why with the swine flu and all, the man should sneeze into his arm and not his
hand. My husband is a walking Health Advert. You should all thank him.
(And not sneeze into your hands.)
But before leaving Fernando showed me some things. They have some cool boards,
like this one, on OLD COMPUTER PAPER!!, where you can sign up for parties.
The sci fi geeks party like CRAZY. They stay up all night, having parties in every
hotel room, and then get up at 7 Am and start all over again. You advertise your party
here, and anyone can go.
They also had this old school sign, with a note affixed saying not to throw it out.
Considering that Worldcon must have the funds to put up classier
signage and boards if they wanted to, I suspect these signs and systems have
been around since the beginning of time, and they don't change them in order
to achieve Old School Chic. Very cool.
They print up a list of all the attendees, and if you have a message for
someone you put a pushpin next to their name. Then you fill out a card, and
file it under the person's name in an old school library filing card system
Isn't that insanely Old Schoolz Coolz?
Here is Fernando writing a note.
Luckily we then met a bunch of nice people, who got the Egotestical Critic
out of our heads. Fernando told this guy how much he lurved this shirt. His wife
made it, and they got into this whole discussion of fabric, which she called
Cthulu pattern (I guess they're Lovecraft fans.) The thing is... everyone at Worldcon
is like my husbandioso. They are friendly and outgoing and will talk at length
about anything. ...Get the feeling Fernando has found his home planet at last?
This man noticed me holding the camera correctly (close to the body) while
taking the last pic, and came over to commend me on it. Turns out he's
an old convention veteran, and we had a long chat. And then another
conny came by, been going to Worldcon for 40 years, and we talked
to him too. (Well he did most of the talking.) When he asked my fave author
and I said Connie Willis, he said: "Oh she's a nice lady.
Harlan Ellisononce put his hand on her boob."
These chats made us much cheerier, and we left in a good mood.
But our adventures weren't over. On the 211 home we sat in the back next to 2 super loud drunk (but nice) French dudes. They were still drinking beers (offered me one.) They were coming back from the Blink-182 concert, as well as two giggling girls across the way (they all started singing together.) Drunkenness isn't very hot, though, so the boys (mid 20s? late 20s?) had no chance to pick up.
Then a girl next to Fernando piped up: "You two were on my train from Vaudreuil at 4 in the afternoon, and you already had a six pack!" "It was a 24," one guy replied.
Later a guy got on the bus and was standing by us, rolling his eyes at the drunks. He said: Better to stick to the natural stuff (grass, one assumes.)
The 211 was on a detour, along Lakeshore, so I was worried about where to get off to walk home (it was 12:30 AM). We had to get off in the village and walk home, and we it was much longer to get to St Jean from the there than we expected, so we weren't home til 1:50 AM! And then we passed out.
Now Fernando is trying to convince me to go first thing in the AM to see Connie Willis again. Two hours sleep, and me with a headache for the last 3 days straight. Hesa crazy!
