Me and that Train
Aug. 20th, 2005 12:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellenkushnerWorldcon in Glasgow was so wonderful I hardly have the words to describe it. To be honest, I wasn't expecting much, wasn't really in the mood to do a convention - but, like the Patty Larkin song "Me and that Train", things kept sliding into place; it seemed I couldn't put a foot wrong. I would wish for an old friend, and there they'd be, standing behind me at a party, and free for dinner that night (this happened twice!). My Latvian publisher turned up in a hallway the first day, so I could finally thank him for the wonderful cover he put on Tomass Varsmotajs. An author I admire told me my hair was made to put stars in (well, this was because I was sifting the table decorations - little silver stars - on top of my head - but what else can you do when your evening begins with getting to ride on the open top deck of a double-decker bus through the streets of Glasgow with the moon high overhead? I rode backwards, cackling with pleasure as the wind whipped me and second-story windows flashed by briefly revealing their interiors).
I got to spend quality time catching up with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rozk and vschanoes and eegatland and many other fine folk, some of whom, like pdcawley, actually remembered me or my novels from their last appearance in Britain, more than 10 years ago, and were kind enough to want to talk about it. I got to drink Real Ale, which is to beer as fresh orange juice is to Kool Aid.
I was on interesting panels with wonderful people, in rooms so crowded you couldn't get in the door. My reading was pretty well-attended considering the hour, and when I stopped after the statutory 30 minutes I was told that I'd been given 50. Since I'd only brought 30 minutes' worth of material, I was a bit stuck - but who should be in the audience but Lisa and Josh from NYC, who just happened to be carrying around the entire rough draft of my new novel on their tiny handheld device (since they've been kind enough to offer to check it for "continuity") - so I let them pick 20 minutes' more, and they chose an excellent scene that was fun to read!
My Spanish publisher was at the reading, and afterwards earnestly discussed the appropriate translation of "St Vier" and "St Cloud" for Spanish readers - and we all went out for a bite with 2 delightful French editor/authors who all bravely ordered haggis, neeps & tatties (well, Anne made Olivier order it "so I don't die alone") - the look on the Parisians' faces when the bowl of grey, white and yellow mush arrived was priceless! - though Luis stoutly maintained it was just like some delicious Spanish delicacy involving pigs' blood . . . . We were having so much fun we missed the Hugos (which ended about an hour earlier than anyone thought they would), but then I crashed the Hugo Losers' Party as half the date of Alan Lee (an old friend who is as nice as ever) and half that of a charming Spanish academic (they already had a date apiece, one of whom was Delia) - my twisted logic so befuddled the doorkeepers that they finally let me in in disgust. There I met up with Hugo nominee Ben Rosenbaum, and we talked about sex and Swordspoint (not in that order) with such brilliance and single-minded ferocity that when they closed the party around us we were astonished to discover it was 2 a.m.
Delia & I escaped the convention long enough to visit the Mackintosh House - where we ran into Michael Swanwick's cara sposa, the peerless Marianne Porter, doing the same - and one dayeegatland drove us out into the countryside and actually took us to the Banks of Loch Lomond. They are indeed bonnie, as is she - we talked books and writing for hours while the scenery rolled on by - and I can't wait to read her new novel!
Although our trip was only 5 days, we managed to miss both the backups from the Toronto crash and the British Airways strike ("like God was throwing the switches...") . . . as one friend said, we've pretty much used up our karma quotient for the year. And returned exhausted - but it was so worth it.
And so, back to our regularly-scheduled dose of Real Life, where mail must be opened and basements must be cleaned out, etcetera and so forth.
Did I mention it was worth it??
I got to spend quality time catching up with
rozk and vschanoes and eegatland and many other fine folk, some of whom, like pdcawley, actually remembered me or my novels from their last appearance in Britain, more than 10 years ago, and were kind enough to want to talk about it. I got to drink Real Ale, which is to beer as fresh orange juice is to Kool Aid.I was on interesting panels with wonderful people, in rooms so crowded you couldn't get in the door. My reading was pretty well-attended considering the hour, and when I stopped after the statutory 30 minutes I was told that I'd been given 50. Since I'd only brought 30 minutes' worth of material, I was a bit stuck - but who should be in the audience but Lisa and Josh from NYC, who just happened to be carrying around the entire rough draft of my new novel on their tiny handheld device (since they've been kind enough to offer to check it for "continuity") - so I let them pick 20 minutes' more, and they chose an excellent scene that was fun to read!
My Spanish publisher was at the reading, and afterwards earnestly discussed the appropriate translation of "St Vier" and "St Cloud" for Spanish readers - and we all went out for a bite with 2 delightful French editor/authors who all bravely ordered haggis, neeps & tatties (well, Anne made Olivier order it "so I don't die alone") - the look on the Parisians' faces when the bowl of grey, white and yellow mush arrived was priceless! - though Luis stoutly maintained it was just like some delicious Spanish delicacy involving pigs' blood . . . . We were having so much fun we missed the Hugos (which ended about an hour earlier than anyone thought they would), but then I crashed the Hugo Losers' Party as half the date of Alan Lee (an old friend who is as nice as ever) and half that of a charming Spanish academic (they already had a date apiece, one of whom was Delia) - my twisted logic so befuddled the doorkeepers that they finally let me in in disgust. There I met up with Hugo nominee Ben Rosenbaum, and we talked about sex and Swordspoint (not in that order) with such brilliance and single-minded ferocity that when they closed the party around us we were astonished to discover it was 2 a.m.
Delia & I escaped the convention long enough to visit the Mackintosh House - where we ran into Michael Swanwick's cara sposa, the peerless Marianne Porter, doing the same - and one day
eegatland drove us out into the countryside and actually took us to the Banks of Loch Lomond. They are indeed bonnie, as is she - we talked books and writing for hours while the scenery rolled on by - and I can't wait to read her new novel!Although our trip was only 5 days, we managed to miss both the backups from the Toronto crash and the British Airways strike ("like God was throwing the switches...") . . . as one friend said, we've pretty much used up our karma quotient for the year. And returned exhausted - but it was so worth it.
And so, back to our regularly-scheduled dose of Real Life, where mail must be opened and basements must be cleaned out, etcetera and so forth.
Did I mention it was worth it??