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Worldcon Event by Event: One
So the only sane way to tackle this is chronologically. Either that, or you have to just post a quick overview. The thing about a Worldcon is that it's concentrated, largely relevant experience, a very fast stream of happenings coming at you, and relating to you, in a way which is the exact opposite of sitting at a keyboard and looking out of your window every day. I sometimes think of it as what my ideal for an afterlife would be. Yes, even with the bureaucracy and the fights on panels (you'd really need something to do in an afterlife). But I will try and cut to the chase for each particular event, or this'll be like one of those fanzine convention reviews from the old days which began with the author packing his suitcase and didn't get to the convention until after three pages of moaning about British Rail. So...
The first evening at a convention is always an interesting time. You don't know the city. You don't know where your hotel is in relation to anything. You have to venture out into the wild to find stuff and people, like this is a first person shooter, and dinner with Lou Anders gets you an energy bonus. Montreal was to turn into, like most of the places conventions take you, somewhere beloved by association, but on the first night it could be dangerous, it could be dull, it could be anything. Worldcon is the sort of extreme sports holiday where you find that stuff out really quickly. As it turned out, I was at a traffic crossing, and saw Jonathan Strahan and Farah Mendlesohn and loads of others coming the other way, and it was like that line in that Calvin Harris song about coming home. They were on their way to dinner, and told me where Lou was, and I went and had dinner with him and his first friends here, and got my energy bonus.
The first thing that hits you about the Palais De Congres is its sheer size. If you had a panel in one of the rooms around the 520s, you'd better set off from the Green Room sharpish. It's a bad area, the 520s, on the wrong side of the tracks, with hobos. Not like the rich uplands of 512 or the bustling urbanity of the 200s. It was rather like a convention was taking place inside, say, the hollowed out interior of Phobos. Which SF fandom is presumably going to do as soon as convenient. Us panel participants swiftly got into the swing of hanging out in the Green Room drinking too much coffee, comparing forthcoming panels, and putting small bits of cheese into a handful of bagels.
The first event I should mention was lunch with John Scalzi. He's someone who's work I really enjoy, and who I've recently had the pleasure of getting to know. (I read his Agent to the Stars in one sitting on the flight home, and excellent it was too.) There's something reassuring about him, like he should be a wise sort of private eye. But he's also the only man I've ever met who criticised my wallet. He said it was 'like Otzi the preserved iceman's wallet' and should contain poison darts and bits of dried mushroom. Or something similar. So I'm obviously conflicted about him. It was good to meet his wife Kristine for the first time, too.
The first thing I had to do was a reading, three authors together in the same hour, taking it in turns and sharing the podium, which seems a good way to maximise the audience and expose people to new things. (The high quality of the programme this time round was down to Farah Mendlesohn, who put it together.) I shared mine with Edd Vick, who read several of his snappy and very short stories, and Hayden Trenholm, who being a Canadian author brought a loyal audience, including Robert J. Sawyer, for his well-crafted future noir. I laughed at his hero actually commenting on reading one of Sawyer's novels: there's product placement for you. I read from 'One of Our Bastards is Missing' and it seemed to go down well.
Then I was on a panel which largely agreed that Fringe is interesting and will have a very exciting second season, a very warm and friendly panel about sexual relationships in modern and classic Doctor Who, which could be summed up as 'joke, double entendre, isn't it all just lovely?!' I've discovered that Who panels in mainstream SF fandom either go like that (and are packed) or are really cold and bitchy (and are packed). And then I faced off my team against Lee Harris' team in a grudge match game of Charades, which featured one of his successfully performing 'Syzygy', and henchforth becoming known by that name whenever she appeared over the weekend. She finally got a badge made. Hi if you're reading, Syz. Of course, as Lee and I both mentioned, the real master of this game is Lionel Blair...
That evening was the first one when most of our gang ended up in the bar of the Intercontinental Hotel, halfway between the venue and the official party hotel, the Delta. Said gang, as always, revolved around Lou, and featured John Picacio and Paolo Bacigalupi, and this time round Bill Fables Willingham (I'm still slightly freaked out that the writer of one of the world's best comics wants to buy me beer) and new star Lauren Beukes, the writer of Moxyland, who was adopted by both our Rat Pack and Marc Gascoigne's Angry Robot crowd (the rather lovely family he and Lee are building around their book imprint, from which we also hung out with Kaaron Warren, author of Slights). Lauren was the latest in a line of splendid new friends we meet at these dos, a South African with a fierce sense of humour, who tuned into the banter straight away, and was made to blush and made others blush in turn. What with Mary Robinette Kowal, Doselle Young, Jonathan Strahan (forever laughing at me about the cricket), Jessica Langer (three weeks before giving birth and pretending to drink pints), Laura Ann Gillman and Catherine Petrini, that really became the bar from that imagined afterlife of mine. Where I'd be every night, drinking with the best company, fellow chancers and creatives. And where, I couldn't, I presume, die of alcohol poisoning. (I made the decision to drink again for the duration of the convention, and didn't regret it in the slightest.)
(That photo by Megan Kurashige.) Friday began with me pounding on the door of the Filk Room, desperate to get inside. Something I've never done before, let me assure you. Only, you see, certain aspects of the programme weren't running as advertised, and I'd made an arrangement to pick up a guitar amp, and as, it turned out, bloody always at this particular convention, every single person I asked about it sent me to another person, over vast geographical distances, and nobody wanted to take on an iota more responsibility than they'd originally been assigned, and there seemed to be a vacuum of leadership at the NCO level. Farah, on the other hand, helped me break in to said room, leave a note in place of the amp, and get it to the room where I was due to make my Kate Bush presentation. The subject was Kate as fantasy author, illustrated by playing short passages from the songs, and I think I did okay, in front of a pleasingly large audience. I've been asked to repeat the show at Eastercon next year (with additions suggested by this audience) and I'll blog a written version here at some point.
Then I was on a panel about which genres get looked down on and why, and I confess I had my only row of the convention on it. I think I was feeling a bit fractious after the close run thing with the amp and the nerves of doing the Kate lecture, but that's no excuse. I'm not going to rehearse the matter here, because honestly it was all a bit dull, and went row, apology, entirely new row, and I think the audience got very tired of it. My apologies.
I signed some autographs that afternoon sitting beside the charming Francophone author Heloise Cote. That evening, I popped into the start of the Angry Robot party (the only one I managed to attend in the Delta, where queuing to get into lifts swiftly became the norm), then dashed across town to spend half an hour at the Wild Cards get together dinner hosted by George R. R. Martin and Melinda Snodgrass, where it was my pleasure to meet some of the other folk who are contributing to the next shared world novel, David Anthony Durham among them. George, who still seems to be sizing me up and waiting for me to prove myself (or maybe that's just how I feel around the greats of fantasy writing) tells me that Harry Lloyd, who played Son of Mine in 'Human Nature' is going to be Viserys Targaryen in the HBO adaptation of A Game of Thrones. Which is great casting, but then, Harry can play anything.
Then I dash back to the Palais in time to host Just A Minute, in which David Clements (the host of Charades and thus responsible for 'Syzygy') beat off Ben Jeapes, Tom Galloway and Steve Green. And we had a flautist in the audience playing the 'Minute Waltz' for us, which is a first for me. Towards the early hours, I indulged in one of my favourite things: that is, I went on a slightly drunken wander in search of a bar that was still open, in the company of Laura and Catherine and chums. Laura's kind of hardcore, especially for a romance author. By which I mean to say you wouldn't be surprised to find that she carried a throwing knife in her boot. We kind of do the world weary cynical thing together, which is weird, because otherwise I'm really not. But she's great drunken wander company. As it turned out, I hopped in a taxi and ran after we went around in one circle too many. I'm told they did finally find a bar.
Phew, I'm sure there's stuff I've forgotten. Tomorrow: the Saturday onwards. Cheerio!
Labels:
Anticipation,
Montreal,
SF,
Worldcon
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As usual, I'm jealous! I love Worldcons, but have only been to the UK ones recently due to lack of cash.
I vividly empathise with your feelings on arrival. I remember arriving in Melbourne in '85 for Aussiecon (where we were bidding for the '87 Worldcon) and feeling a great sense of dislocation, all of which evaporated when the Usual Suspects turned up on a street corner and we headed for the nearest bar.
Good to get a flavour of the convention from you - looking forward to further installments!
Great read, thank you!
Did many people 'get' the Lionel Blair namedrop? :o)
... and, on the topic of Game of Thrones, I am currently busy trying to wangle my way into being an extra on that, as it is being filmed only a short walk from my work! Plans are afoot -as is the Game ;o)
It must be wonderful to do a bid in a new city. To kind of come there to win it over. Nobody but me and Lee, Jaymes! I hear the same from a lot of folk over there, let us know how it works out!
Hi, back, Paul!
I am so sad Worldcon is over. I had such an amazing time! I plan to go to another one! (Probably not the one in Australia, though. Oh, well.)
Glad you enjoyed Montreal! Did you manage to see much outside the Con?
--Syzygy!
Oh, hello! Yes, I had a bit of a wander on the last day, and got a feel for the city. Lovely place it is too. Great to meet you. Cheers.
I thought the Kate Bush talk was very good. I am a big Kate Bush fan but had not thought about the fantasy connection so much before.
Thanks very much.
About John Scalzi's remarks on your wallet, a friend of mine did much the same thing for years. Finally she bought me a new one for Christmas. I suggest that you ignore Scalzi until he does the same.
Brian, that's a great plan. Nudge him for me come yuletide, would you?
Hmmm - longtime admirer of your work (right back to 'Zero Room' - eeek!)
Inspired to comment by your paper on Kate Bush's fantasy worlds - this has left me wondering - which ones?
Really interested in getting in touch as I'm trying to put something together on her religious imagery...
That's exactly what my presentation's about, and if you're going to Odyssey 2010 in London next Easter, you can see it!