Con season has officially begun for me. Consequently, I am wiped. Tuckered. Nackered. What I’m sayin’ here, I’m tired.
Last week was all about getting ready for OSFest, which included doing a couple of critiques for the writing workshop. The weekend was all OSFest, all the time. (Well, most of the time, anyway. I also spent a few hours at my–gasp and swoon–25-year high school reunion. Dude.)
The con itself went pretty well. Robert J. Sawyer was Guest of Honor, and since I knew him from Writers of the Future, he recognized me right away. We had some good chats, and shared a panel on Sunday.
Also present: Travis Heermann and his lady Chanel, Marcus Pelegrimas, Shelly Li, Chloe Neill, Daniel Nielsen, Sherri Dean, Jimmy Hollaman, and the list goes on and on.
My reading on Saturday was surprisingly well attended. I actually filled the room. Granted, it was a small room, but still. It probably didn’t hurt that the wife enticed folks with attractive signage . . . and hot dogs. Yeah, it was probably the hot dogs. Something to keep in mind.
Saturday night, I played RoomCon 6.2, which was a good time. Travis once again immortalized the moment. Last year, he zombified me. This year, he Cthulhu-ized me, to wit:
(For those needing context, this.)
So, yeah. A good weekend, but an exhausting one. Still haven’t caught up on the sleep. Must rectify that now.
Write Club update: A tier one rejection from Daily Science Fiction. Response time, about a week.
And so to bed.
