Well, I’m back from Dragon*Con, and my head is still spinning. It would take me weeks to jot down even a partial record of all the events we attended and the great people we met (not to mention the jaw-dropping costumes I was constantly gawking at) — so I think I’ll leave that to Howard, who’s already posted Part I of a splendid con report.
Instead, I’m going to hit the highlights. The best event we attended at the convention, bar none, was the Pyr Books, a New Voice in Publishing panel, hosted by publisher Lou Anders and attended by Pyr authors Clay & Susan Griffith, Erin Hoffman, Andrew Mayer, Ari Marmell, Mike Resnick, Jon Sprunk, Sam Sykes, and the amazingly cool James Enge.
Why was it so great? Lou highlighted the terrific titles Pyr will be publishing over the next six months in a fast-paced and entertaining slide show, and each of the authors chimed in at appropriate moments to tell us a little more about their books. It was a great way to get introduced to an entire line in under an hour.
And what a line. I haven’t been this intrigued by so many books from a single publisher in a long time.
Those of you who’ve never attended a convention, let alone Dragon*Con, might wonder what the purpose of one is, and what they are like. I used to wonder what all the fuss was over myself, so I thought I’d provide a quick primer for the uninitiated. Attending a fantasy or science fiction convention is an excellent opportunity to mingle with other people who enjoy the same things you do, to interact with the creators of the kinds of work you love, and to meet with the people who edit and publish that work. Sometimes it’s a chance to obtain reproductions of that work, or images from it, or objects based on props from said work. Conventions are also a fabulous chance to network with peers and publishers who might or might not know your own work, although I never advise cornering an editor for twenty minutes of unbroken narrative to pitch any novel, especially one that you haven’t written yet.
But as to what a convention is like, they’re all different. World Fantasy Con, which Black Gate will be attending in force near the end of October, tends to be somewhat intimate, and fairly sober – at least during the day. Dragon*Con, well… I think Lou Anders of Pyr described it quite well in a post earlier today when he said it was like Mardi Gras on Middle-Earth. There are so many different lines of programming that Dragon*Con requires five immense hotels to provide space for them all, and so many attendees that they can’t fit into even those – there are at least five overflow hotels in addition to those with events. There seem to have been something in the area of 68,000 people attending this year. You could field a whole lot of Roman legions with all of those people, though you probably wouldn’t want to.
When I say “Lines of Programming” I mean different kinds of panels and events. There are so many special guests and panels to attend you can go to Dragon*Con with ten of your friends and each have entirely different, and interesting, experiences. If you want, you can go to nothing but writing panels and learn publishing secrets. You can go to media panels where movie, TV, or comic stars discuss what it was/is like working on their show. You can go to the art show and peruse the graphic arts, or maybe buy some, or go on the gaming track, or see a huge selection of independent films. There were two halls of exhibitors and one dealer room and even though I toured through all three I’m sure I didn’t see every product. Strolling through all of it are folk in costume. Some of those costumes are simple affairs, or store bought. Some are hand-crafted works of exquisite art. Some of them will sear your mind in wonder, although not always the good kind.
Into this we of Black Gate wandered, and I’ll provide a detailed account of what we saw and who we met before the end of the week.
Black Gate Zeppelin to Dragon*Con Update 5: It’s too Hideous
The Harold Lamb approaches Caracas to ask for directions.
Oh God. Oh, God. Lovecraft was right. Things that are seen, cannot be unseen.
So I thought I’d have a private cabin on this flying death-trap Howard Andrew Jones has poetically named The Harold Lamb, but no. That’s reserved for important bloggers, like Sue “Goth Chick” Granquist, and our fancy pilot, Bill Ward. During our trip to Atlanta, I’m stuck down here in engineering, sharing a tiny cabin with Jason Waltz and John Woolley. They’re good guys, but for the past two days they’ve been laughing about some private joke. This morning, when I was finally done shoveling coal into the engines, I asked them to let me in on it.
They share a glance, and then Woolley moves a little closer, his voice lowered. “Okay,” he says. “You know how naive editor John O’Neill is, right?”
Well, yeah. He’s a Canadian, he trusts everyone. I nod, and Woolley continues: “He’s never been to Dragon*Con before. Yesterday he asks me and Jason about it. What he should expect, stuff like that. So I tell him, it’s tradition to dress up as Princess Leia — that wins everyone over. And he totally falls for it.”
I chuckle. That sounds like John. Right now he’s probably in the stores, cutting up sheets to make a white princess dress. But before I can comment, Jason adds: “That’s not the worst part. Yesterday I heard him asking Howard about those illegal genetic samples we picked up when we raided Dr. Zarius’ polar labs. He took two back to his room.”
“Wait,” I say, with mounting horror. “O’Neill’s not crazy enough to experiment with those…. is he? They can change you, in ways you’d never imagine.” I can see in John’s and Jason’s faces that they’ve suddenly come to the same dread conclusion I have. In moments, the three of us are pounding on the door to O’Neill’s cabin.
“Go away!” he shouts from inside. But his voice…. it’s changed. Changed in indescribable ways.
“We’ve got to break down this door,” Woolley says fervently, grabbing a crow bar. Jason helps him, but I start to back away. I know, with absolute mounting horror, what we’ll find when we open that door. It can’t be… it can’t be… but I know that it will be. And I can feel my very sanity slipping away… just as I hear the door crash open, and the screaming begins, as John and Jason look upon the horror within…
On the whole, I’m not opposed to traveling with boys. Generally speaking they are amusing companions particularly when refusing to ask directions, thereby winding you through mildly interesting places while attempting to locate the desired destination sans MapQuest. Along the route, in an effort to distract their hapless passengers from all the pointless meandering, they can generally be counted on for lively and revealing conversation about former girlfriends, prior arrests and entirely icky things done in frat houses; all of which become prime blackmail fodder for later use.
Therefore, I did not immediately dismiss Howard’s idea of coming along on a road-trip to the Atlanta Dragon*Con in the Black Gate zeppelin via the Canadian Rockies, Baja and Rhode Island. Frankly by the normal standards, it’s about as much planning as I’ve ever know these boys to do. Besides, just seeing the look on John’s face when he heard the whole plan would have been more than enough incentive in and of itself, but when I learned the zeppelin had enough cargo space to house the new batch of interns plus my blender, I was in.
Now several days into the trip we are, of course, hopelessly astray of the original brilliantly planned route, E.E. Knight keeps going on and on about the steaks at Le Cheveux Club Pour Les Hommes and how big his Mauser is, and in an attempt to get cell coverage John insists on going topside in spite of the turbulence, then throwing up over what I hope is Cleveland but at this point could just as easily be New Mexico.
And the overall conditions in this zeppelin are starting to deteriorate.
I can indeed verify that Howard von Steppenwolf-Jones’s fearful presentiment about the revelation of our route is correct. We are compromised and our mission imperiled. While returning home from a convivial evening of cards and tawny Port at my club (Le Cheveux Club Pour Les Hommes — best steak au poivre in Chicago, I might add) I noticed my door had been jimmied with a crude textural analysis and took the precaution of drawing my trusty life preserver. Senses, pistol, and wits half-cocked, I entered. From my library, I heard a whispered chant:
Mene, mene, Derrida upchuckin’
Dulce et decorum est, pro postmodernism scribtum
I’d heard those black words before, in the nightmarish 2006 free-for-all at the Iowa Summer Writing Festival. A claven of MFA candidates, driven mad by Midwestern Chardonnay and a few passed-around copies of Rosebud, had very nearly cost me my life.
There’s a temporary lull in operations and the skies are clear over Oklahoma, so I thought I’d take the time to set the record straight about our expedition to Dragon*Con via the Black Gate zeppelin, the Harold Lamb. John described the start of our journey just after we departed the Black Gate rooftop headquarters Thursday.
Those of you who know publisher John O’Neill are aware that he has a tendency to exaggerate. For instance, he stated that the zeppelin is capable of Mach 2, but it usually maxes out around 1.5. He’d probably report that we were attacked by a flock of cybernetic pterodactyls, but in truth it was really only a half dozen, and Bill Ward and I took out most of them with the electric railguns. John was only blown back a few feet when the aft railgun exploded, too, so just nod politely if he tells you he was smashed into the hull and stunned.
I really wish John hadn’t broadcast our route, because I’m afraid it’s attracted unwanted attention. I’m fairly certain Dr. Zaius sent the cybernetic pterodactyls after us, but John Fultz tells me he sent mocking letters to both Aquaman AND the Legion of Doom on Black Gate letterhead, so there’s just no telling. Still, we’re prepared for pretty much anything on our journey, and we’ve decided to stick with the plan.
Now I thought I’d take a few moments to respond to some questions that have come in during our trip.
I arrived at our building this morning to find people milling around in the street, pointing into the air. A fat, smoke-shrouded zeppelin was moored to the Black Gate rooftop headquarters.
“Oh God, no,” I thought. “I was sure Howard was joking. That thing is a death trap.”
Howard wasn’t joking. I took the elevator to the roof, punched in the secret code, and stepped out into chaos. Minions were scurrying everywhere, loading cargo into the airship. John Woolley, our graphic designer, was stuffing our brand new 12-foot banners into a well-worn travel case from the 1920s. I caught him just as a strong gust of wind damn near took him over the edge, and we got it stowed into the cargo hold.
I found Howard commanding operations. “Are you crazy?” I shouted at him. “That thing will never make it to Atlanta. It can barely do five knots!”
Howard did look slightly crazy, dressed in jungle fatigues and standing on a desk. He was clutching a worn parchment. “Isn’t she beautiful? Jason Waltz completely re-built the engines. She hit Mach 2 just after midnight last night during our test run!”
Have you ever woken up in an extremely good mood, found you were left enough hot water for a skin-peeling shower, stepped on the scale and found it down two pounds in spite of the bacchanalia of the night before? Have you ever leapt out of bed feeling euphoric and thought, “I really love my life?”
For me, the sun rose over the Chicago skyline last Saturday and found me gleefully clutching my press pass to the Chicago Comic Con.
It was about to be one of those days.
Last weekend, Wizard World made the Chicago stop on its nationwide tour, bring pop culture, comic books, toys and general weirdness to the Windy City. I brought my good friend and photographer Mr. Disney along, not only to help capture every precious moment on film, but to assist in with the non-stop stream of snarky commentary that was unavoidable at an event such as this.
Has anyone ever asked what you would grab out of your house if it was on fire and you could only make one trip? Or maybe the question was, if you knew you were going to be stranded on a deserted island, what would you take with you?
If it comes up in conversation and it’s focused on food, that one’s easy.
Pez.
However, when it comes to actual items, the answer becomes a bit more complicated and largely depends on who is asking. If it comes up at a family gathering, I usually can say “my photo albums” with a straight face. But as I’m among friends here, allow me to lay out the real list (in no particular order):
My complete set of 1 – 12 Interview With a Vampire comics, with issue number one signed by Anne Rice
The set of Universal Studios movie monsters Pez dispenser set (got to have something to eat the Pez out of)
Having read this list it should come as no surprise at all that I’m counting the days to the Chicago Comic Con this weekend. Yes, this is the Chicago version of the biggie in California, but the line up is still good.
Now that Gen Con is done, it’s time to offer up some final thoughts, experiences, and, of course, games.
Art Show
One of the best areas to walk around at Gen Con is the art show. This is always fun for me, because I honestly don’t follow artists that much, so sometimes I stumble upon someone really famous whose work I’ve never seen before or who I’ve never heard of. Unfortunately, since the artwork is the artist’s main product, I really can’t reproduce it here without getting into all kinds of messy copyright issues. Fortunately, what I can do is link to the websites of some that I found most enjoyable:
While I covered some fun pulp roleplaying games in yesterday’s post, I didn’t get around to talking some fun games of other types. One publisher that I’d like to discuss is Slugfest Games, which has a wide assortment of card and board games which have a pulp feel to them. The one that I demoed this year was Kung Fu Fighting, a card game in which you play a series of karate moves.