WORLDCON REPORT

[deborahjross]

I came. I panelized. I was wined and dined by editor. I schmoozed. I got wacked over one eye by a swinging glass door. I iced and slept and went home, gloriously colorful.

One thing I did right was to drive down to LA on Wednesday and spend the night with my older daughter, manawolf and her partner, otana. We ate Indian food and had a lovely visit. This allowed me to get up at a reasonable hour and make my way to downtown, where I picked up aerion and her daughter, and so trundled off to Anaheim, arriving in time to get comfortably settled in before my first panel.

The topic was WRITING WHILE HOLDING DOWN A DAY JOB and I held forth in usual style, talking about learning to write professionally, work, and do the mom thing. We talked about time management, whether tech or nonfiction writing helps or hurts fiction writing. I shared how I learned to use little bits of time to "pre-write" so that I could use actual keyboard time more efficiently, and also how important it is to keep your inner kid playful and happy.

Friday was my big day, moderating 2 of the 3 panels I was on. The ARE CLONES KOSHER? panel was joined by one of my favorite writers, Mary Rosenblum, who had done a great deal of research about food production. We avoided the dread pitfall of "my dietary laws are more pit-picking than your dietary laws." I felt like the lone advocate of increasing the food supply by getting off the top of the pyramid -- i.e., instead of using umpteen gallons of petroleum products, not to mention pesticides and other chemicals, to produce grain (which cattle don't normally eat and can't digest well) for a small amount of luxury protein, why not grow the same amount of grain/soy/legumes in a less destructive way and feed many more people? I was also apparently the only panelist who knew that you can walk into your health food store today and buy very appetizing mycoprotein products. I feel far too crunchy granola New Age Woo-Woo.

Following this, I attempted to bring order to HOW TO KILL OFF A CHARACTER. This was one of those magical panels where passion and heart ignite and suddenly the entire room, audience and panel, get real and present. We were no longer talking literary technique, but what moves us at our core. Grief, hatred, revenge, forgiveness, grace. Thank you, madrobins

I knew the next panel would be a challenge: INTERMEDIATE WRITING, with Jay Lake on one end of the table and Mike Shepherd Moscoe on the other, two large booming-voiced and emphatic gentlemen not ordinarily given to shutting up so that small, soft-spoken women can talk. My job was to make sure they did. I don't know how it happened, but we ended up with a marvelous discussion of career strategies, how to keep growing as a writer, and what to do when meltdown occurs. Much respectful and lively disagreement. Afterwards, Jay told me I "gave good panel," which I take as a high compliment.

Saturday was lighter, only TURNING MENTAL BLOCKS INTO BUILDING BLOCKS, one of those panels that moderates itself and flows like cream. Everyone was involved, listening to one another, chiming in with new ideas. I had the sense of synthesis, not just canned speeches of things everyone had said many times before. We all had a grand time and no one wanted to leave at the end!

Saturday night was the DAW dinner in the fancy restaurant in the Grand California Hotel. We didn't start eating until 10 pm, the food was wonderful, the wine even better, and perhaps that is why I was not as alert as I should have been the next morning, because when I started into the open door of the Hilton, the heavy glass door was just swinging shut. I knew immediately I'd broken a blood vessel in my forehead, and there was much fuss and bother, me saying quite forcefully to this poor befuddled hotel employee, "I need an ice pack NOW!" and finally security arriving, asking all the right questions, wheeling me across the street and up to my room "in the =other= hotel." Spent most of Sunday resting and keeping an ice pack on the thing. aerion helped me maneuver well enough to get dinner, and then things went better.

Drove back Monday, listening to an audio book of interviews with the Dalai Lama on "The Wisdom of Compassion." Found husband very happy to see me, piles of laundry and unpicked green beans, also cats who informed me they had been =lonely= and needed petting =right now= Laundry is done, bills paid, cats petted, husband . . . well, wived, shall we say. Tomorrow, serious piano and Chapterhood.

Comments

[tcastleb.livejournal.com]

It was good to see you again! I'm sorry I couldn't make more of your panels, but as Jay said of the one I did see, you "gave good panel." And Mary was a sweetheart in my writer's workshop and afterwards; she nudged me down to the Tor party, which turned into a very good thing where I met lots of very cool people. My poor lonely cat needed much petting on my return, too. I hope your head is better soon!

[deborahjross.livejournal.com]

Thank you for your wishes! The colors are spreading and changing, and the lump grows smaller every day. It's an ongoing spiritual exercise, deciding how to respond to horrified looks. I want to hide behind sunglasses, but steel myself not to

I'm glad you had a good time at WorldCon. It was good to see you again.