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Day 3 and 4 of WFC 2022
Nov. 6th, 2022 07:25 pmOn the way to the hotel from the airport, we were stuck in highway traffic behind a huge trailer truck for a while. Drawn with a marker pen at the back for the convenience of the driver behind it were arrows pointing to either side of the truck. The arrow pointing left said, "Passing Side". The arrow pointing right said, "Suicide." Me and Seth looked up at the same time, saw it, turned to each other and smiled. It was beautiful. I wished I got out my phone right then to catch that PSA from the truck. Unfortunately, our taxi driver seized that moment to move up past said truck on the side labeled, "Suicide".
We got to our hotel all right and our cabbie was nice. But it was a great encapsulation of our nerves throughout WFC.
Day 2 began with a couple of early attendances at other peoples' readings. At my panel, discussing what made good horror stories, I think I came off as a shy and unqualified writer-person. Seth thinks I was okay. The other panelists were more eloquent and capable of stating their ideas more professionally than I, and certainly good people. I didn't feel antagonised by them, I just felt like I didn't belong there. You would not think I have been writing horror for 20 years, as I said of myself.
That took all my concentration that day. I wanted to attend a later panel on writing realistic raptors (birds of prey, not dinosaurs) in fiction because I like sharp birds but I was simply too frazzled. I did try putting down a bid on one of the art show pieces, which was this adorable panel of wee ghosts by Lisa Snellings, whose art I had seen online before and liked. (I did not win this bid in the end.)
My reading on the last day was attended by three people plus my husband. This was within my expectations, and they were really wonderful, kind listeners who asked interesting questions. It was the first reading I've ever done where I actually felt happy. For a few hours afterwards, I almost felt like I had a chance at that award, but I was also aware it was unlikely. No, I did not win in the end.
About the award ceremony itself, the atmosphere of the celebration was really nice. Our table had no less than two Guests of Honour. Seth and I shared feelings of being not good enough to be there. Again, people were polite. But both of us are anxious wrecks. The speeches given by the winners in each category all had interesting stories. I was struck by the kindness of many towards fellow writers and strange humans both. Some of the stories they told were harrowing. Best Anthology went to The Year's Best African Speculative Fiction, edited by Oghenechovwe Donald Ekpeki (it's available for free download from his website). By Mr Ekpeki's account, the journey from getting that anthology in print with a foreign publisher to getting into the US to accept the award was traumatic. No publisher or writer ought to go through that.
Simultaneously, seeing a work like that anthology being lauded shows that the options for getting international genre writers heard is widening, even if the odds are still stacked. It was incredibly clear that the judging panel had worked hard to include as diverse a selection as possible in terms of who were represented and where—geographically as well as in the sense of big and small presses and even media. When I began getting published in 1998, all of this was barely beginning. Seeing growth makes me glad.
(Small shout out: Monstress, Volume 6, a beautiful, utterly dark comic series I've been a big fan of for many years, written by Marjorie Liu and illustrated by Sana Takeda, won for Special Award – Professional. It has talking anthropomorphic cats.)
The toastmaster this year was Ursula Vernon, who told a most delightful story about the 7 ft tall terror birds that roamed Louisiana 3 million years ago. There's just something sweet about someone who can expound with such glee the story of 7 ft tall murder chickens that pecked prey to death after perhaps impaling them close with a sickle-shaped claw. Also, I ultimately did not get that signature for my Hamster Princess book due to too much stuff happening at the same time. Knowing that Monstress was one of the nominees, I actually brought Volume 1 from home hoping to get that signed too, but neither of the nominees were present at this convention.
I stayed behind for the Judging Panel discussion post-award, which was very educational. The level of transparency about the judging process is refreshing, the excitement of the judges as readers was infectious. The questions asked by the audience and responses taught me a lot about what goes into selecting the nominees. I went in expecting the process to be somewhat like dealing with an enormous slush pile at a magazine, and it's similar, although you get the idea the responsibilities are on a much bigger order of magnitude.
Finally, in my entire time here, I have eaten ONE beignet. It was a beautiful beignet, with a texture between a choux pastry and a croissant, barely sweetened by a thick layer of powdered sugar. They were serving them at the reception after the Mass Autograph Session. It was just unfortunate that earlier that same evening, both of us had such a heavy dinner we were quite ill afterwards. The convention schedule also didn't leave us any time to wander around our hotel. (It is a work con and not a vacation.) I henceforth hope to eventually drag the spouse back here at some future point, once more, because this cannot stand!
We got to our hotel all right and our cabbie was nice. But it was a great encapsulation of our nerves throughout WFC.
Day 2 began with a couple of early attendances at other peoples' readings. At my panel, discussing what made good horror stories, I think I came off as a shy and unqualified writer-person. Seth thinks I was okay. The other panelists were more eloquent and capable of stating their ideas more professionally than I, and certainly good people. I didn't feel antagonised by them, I just felt like I didn't belong there. You would not think I have been writing horror for 20 years, as I said of myself.
That took all my concentration that day. I wanted to attend a later panel on writing realistic raptors (birds of prey, not dinosaurs) in fiction because I like sharp birds but I was simply too frazzled. I did try putting down a bid on one of the art show pieces, which was this adorable panel of wee ghosts by Lisa Snellings, whose art I had seen online before and liked. (I did not win this bid in the end.)
My reading on the last day was attended by three people plus my husband. This was within my expectations, and they were really wonderful, kind listeners who asked interesting questions. It was the first reading I've ever done where I actually felt happy. For a few hours afterwards, I almost felt like I had a chance at that award, but I was also aware it was unlikely. No, I did not win in the end.
About the award ceremony itself, the atmosphere of the celebration was really nice. Our table had no less than two Guests of Honour. Seth and I shared feelings of being not good enough to be there. Again, people were polite. But both of us are anxious wrecks. The speeches given by the winners in each category all had interesting stories. I was struck by the kindness of many towards fellow writers and strange humans both. Some of the stories they told were harrowing. Best Anthology went to The Year's Best African Speculative Fiction, edited by Oghenechovwe Donald Ekpeki (it's available for free download from his website). By Mr Ekpeki's account, the journey from getting that anthology in print with a foreign publisher to getting into the US to accept the award was traumatic. No publisher or writer ought to go through that.
Simultaneously, seeing a work like that anthology being lauded shows that the options for getting international genre writers heard is widening, even if the odds are still stacked. It was incredibly clear that the judging panel had worked hard to include as diverse a selection as possible in terms of who were represented and where—geographically as well as in the sense of big and small presses and even media. When I began getting published in 1998, all of this was barely beginning. Seeing growth makes me glad.
(Small shout out: Monstress, Volume 6, a beautiful, utterly dark comic series I've been a big fan of for many years, written by Marjorie Liu and illustrated by Sana Takeda, won for Special Award – Professional. It has talking anthropomorphic cats.)
The toastmaster this year was Ursula Vernon, who told a most delightful story about the 7 ft tall terror birds that roamed Louisiana 3 million years ago. There's just something sweet about someone who can expound with such glee the story of 7 ft tall murder chickens that pecked prey to death after perhaps impaling them close with a sickle-shaped claw. Also, I ultimately did not get that signature for my Hamster Princess book due to too much stuff happening at the same time. Knowing that Monstress was one of the nominees, I actually brought Volume 1 from home hoping to get that signed too, but neither of the nominees were present at this convention.
I stayed behind for the Judging Panel discussion post-award, which was very educational. The level of transparency about the judging process is refreshing, the excitement of the judges as readers was infectious. The questions asked by the audience and responses taught me a lot about what goes into selecting the nominees. I went in expecting the process to be somewhat like dealing with an enormous slush pile at a magazine, and it's similar, although you get the idea the responsibilities are on a much bigger order of magnitude.
Finally, in my entire time here, I have eaten ONE beignet. It was a beautiful beignet, with a texture between a choux pastry and a croissant, barely sweetened by a thick layer of powdered sugar. They were serving them at the reception after the Mass Autograph Session. It was just unfortunate that earlier that same evening, both of us had such a heavy dinner we were quite ill afterwards. The convention schedule also didn't leave us any time to wander around our hotel. (It is a work con and not a vacation.) I henceforth hope to eventually drag the spouse back here at some future point, once more, because this cannot stand!
