OSFest dominated last week, as I knew it would. This is my hometown con, so I really like to support it as best I can. As I couldn’t attend in 2012, I was a tad nervous that the con staff would perhaps be a little miffed at me.
I needn’t have worried. It was like I’d never been away. Was very glad, too, to see so many of my writing peeps again, like Travis and Betsy and Daniel and Sherri and James and a bunch of others, too many to name. It was also quite groovy to discuss salsa with Gail Carriger and to jam a bit at Room Con with Keith R.A. DeCandido.
Room Con was a blast, as always, with lots of singing along and general frivolity. Jonathan Coulton’s “Re: Your Brains” has become a perennial favorite. This year, I debuted Paul and Storm’s “Write Like the Wind (George R.R. Martin),” which also went over well. I played for five friggin’ hours, ably spelled by Travis and by intervals of belly dancing. Yes, belly dancing. Get over it. We’re all about broadening your cultural horizons at Room Con, doncha know.
Anyway, around 2 a.m., what was left of my calluses finally forced my hand (see what I did there?), and I called it a night.
Had a reading the next morning, which I shared with Sherri. It went over pretty well, I think (read: we weren’t reading to an empty room).
By the time Closing Ceremonies wrapped up, I was pretty much dead on my feet—the sure sign of a successful con.
And as usual, I came away more fired up about my own writing. Which, you know, I should probably get back to.
No updates for Write Club.
Later, gators.
