GeekGirlCon was set up to promote and celebrate the role of women in geek culture. In a perfect, equal world it would not be necessary– however, the world, especially the world of geeks, is neither perfect nor equal. I hate to say it, but there’s a lot of sexism in geek culture– just check out the latest brouhaha over DC Comics’ reboot of Starfire, in which women’s sexual liberation gets twisted into male wish fulfillment– probably because almost all of DC’s writers and artists are male.

On other fronts, Internet culture is horribly sexist, and often claims “irony” as an excuse to be not just blatantly sexist, but racist and homophobic– this is Not Okay. And things are arguably even worse in online games.

There are serious problems outside of pop culture, too: for example, women are still very underrepresented in STEM careers (Science, Technology, Engineering, Math). And even outside the geek realm, societal norms aren’t helping matters.

Given all this as context, yes, we need a GeekGirlCon.

I heard a fair amount of speculation prior to the con that the attendees would mostly consist of lonely guys trying to pick up geek girls (hey, more sexism!), but in actuality that was not the case. In fact, I’d say the guy-girl ratio was about 30-70, based on a few rough counts I did at panels. Admittedly, it was kind of a nice change from normal cons, where the ratio is sometimes almost reversed. The panelists were almost entirely female (again, a reversal of the norm) and the panels were some of the most interesting that I’ve attended in years: possibly because the topics and perspectives were ones that often don’t get discussed at cons.

I attended a couple of panels: one was on Writing Urban Fantasy, hosted by Yasmine Galenorn. It’s not exactly a new topic, but it was presented in a much more systematic way than I had ever seen before, complete with a handout describing the basic formulas that a lot of Urban Fantasy is characterized by, do’s and don’ts, cliches and tropes, and the interplay of reason and magic. And I walked away with some good ideas to work into my NaNoWriMo novel next month.

I also attended a panel on Geek Girls in Culture, talking about the role of geeky women in TV and movies and books, and the good and bad sides of their portrayal, and which ones have geniunely inspired the panelists over the course of their careers. By and large, the panels I attended were some of the most fun, informative and entertaining that I’ve seen– and I’m not just saying that because I want to suck up to the geek girls. I think we did get to see things presented from an angle that is often lacking or underrepresented in “mainstream” geek culture.

By and large the con was well-organized for a first year con. There were some hiccups– like long lines in the narrow hallways prior to the panels, which occasionally intermixed. There were also some quirks to the venue– the con was held in the Northwest Rooms of the Seattle Center, except for larger events, which were held at the EMP Museum about a five or ten minute walk away. The EMP is a big place, and things were sometimes difficult to find– notably the Masquerade line, which unlike almost everywhere else didn’t seem to have any volunteers around. Someone told me that it was the line for Masquerade participants, not spectators, which meant I ended up doing another lap around the building before I figured out that yes, it was the right line after all.

Speaking of the Masquerade, this is pretty much the only area of the con I had any actual complaints. It was held on a stage at the EMP, however, the lighting was the worst I’ve ever seen at a Masquerade. The spotlight overhead was dim and orange, which made photography a total pain and certainly didn’t flatter the costumes. And despite some quick instructions from the MCs, most of the participants simply walked up, did a quick turn, and back off the stage without so much as a pause. Again, tough for the audience to appreciate your costume (or photographers to take pics) if you don’t actually stop for a few seconds. That said, there were some great costumes, particularly in the kids’ division– it’s good to see such a promising next generation of geeks.

But all in all, it was an excellent con, particularly for its first year. It’s filling a unique and (unfortunately) needed niche, and it was definitely a hit with the community. Saturday-only tickets sold out before I got there, so I had to buy a two-day pass. I had hoped to make it back on Sunday, but didn’t– probably because I stayed up until 3 am writing, then slept in until 2 the next day. Hopefully it’ll be bigger and better next year. And hopefully it’ll give more girl geeks (and young geeks in general) a taste of the community beyond what they see online.

Full set of photos from the con here.

As usual, Dragon*Con had two sides: the daytime, full of panels and readings and costumes and the Dealer’s Room and the Art Show, and the night time, full of parties and dances and even more elaborate and/or skimpier costumes. So that’s how I’ll divide the report:

Daytime

I spent most of my mornings and afternoons being fairly straight-laced and normal, attending writing panels and readings. I got to see Howard Tayler read again, and I was also particularly happy to meet Laura Anne Gilman, who I’ve conversed with on Twitter a couple of times. I heard Mur Lafferty read, and I heard a number of different editors and publishers hold forth on their favorite books that will soon hit the shelves.

I enjoyed readings, and those sort of “what’s coming soon” panels, far more than I enjoyed the panels on the actual writing process. I feel like I’ve reached a point where I know most of what’s going to be said on the process panels. Intellectually, I know how to write, thanks to writing groups, podcasts, scattered classes and panels, and my own accumulating pool of experience. So as I listened to these panels, I began answering each question in my own head, and comparing them with what the panelists said, and came away reasonably sure that I could hold forth just as expertly on pretty much every panel I attended.

That’s not to say I know as much as published authors. But sitting in on one of these panels is like sitting in on a “Basics of Writing” class: it keeps things at a pretty trite and uncomplicated level (there’s only an hour, after all), and once you’ve moved beyond that level, the panels are kind of useless.

I felt the same way about the “How to Get Published” panels. I know how to get published, I just have to do it, and the biggest step to getting published is to write more publishable stuff. It’s a fact that most of these panels tend to gloss over, even though it’s probably what most of the audience needs to hear. It’s so easy to get caught up in how to get published, or the commercial vs. self-publishing debate, that it’s easy to lose track of the actual writing.

One panelist even commented that he’s met people like that: people who go to writing panels, attend classes and workshops, but when it comes to actual writing output, they write very little. They’re utterly fascinated by the business and process of writing but don’t actually practice it. And more practice is the main thing I need right now, far more than panels or advice.

Nighttime

Ah, the interesting part of Dragon*Con, and let’s be honest, the biggest reason to go. You can get panels and readings at any con, but only one con has earned the title “Nerdy Gras.”

This year, I was determined to cosplay. Not as any character in particular; I prefer making up my own characters, which I suppose comes from being a writer. I don’t cosplay to show off my outfit-making skills (of which I have none), but I like the aspecting of transforming into a different character for a few hours. And makeup & special effects are closet hobbies of mine, so I packed some interesting clothes, a variety of prosthetic ears/horns/teeth and bodypaint, and headed out.

I hit a stumbling block when the TSA confiscated my airbrush. Airbrushed bodypaint is longer-lasting, easier to wear, and faster to apply than regular bodypaint, and as a result it’s usually what I use when I’m costuming. It wasn’t the airbrush itself that the TSA had a problem with– it was a small electric air compressor, about the size of a volleyball, which the TSA classified as “dangerous goods.” Why, I have no idea. It plugs into a wall outlet, so it’s not like it going to turn on or explode, or, um, compress anything, in the middle of a flight.

When I got to Atlanta, I recovered my ransacked luggage and a generic form note from the TSA telling me I’m not allowed to take lighters on a plane. Makes me proud to be an American, I tell you.

After a bit of fruitless raging at no one in particular, I got over it and cosplayed anyway, using cotton pads bought from a mall pharmacy in lieu of airbrush (I’m the one on the left– my cosplay isn’t that good):

On Sunday night, I skipped the bodypaint and went with vampire instead of elf-demon. Technically, I was a time-traveling vampire from an alternate reality– or at least, that was what I told everyone at the Steampunk & Time Travelers Ball.

In a sense, I feel like Dragon*Con is a big social experiment for me. The people who attend represent, in a variety of ways, a community I want to be a part of: from the professional writers on the panels, to the cosplayers who head out every night and party– but most of all, all of us geeks who spend four awesome days reveling in our geekdom. As I’ve said before, there’s a special combination of passion and independent thought that, for me, is at the heart of being a geek, and every year at Dragon*Con, I’m thoroughly immersed in it.

But because I started going to conventions only recently (Dragon*Con 2009 was my first), I don’t have the network of friends in the community that most congoers seem to have. My first year at Dragon*Con, I didn’t talk to anybody except the two people from Raleigh who I already knew. The second year at Dragon*Con, I did better– I had dinner with some professional authors, and attended some parties, but still spent a large chunk of time feeling introverted and out of place. This third year, I still felt introverted and out of place– but I cosplayed, I attended the Steampunk Ball with a few of my roommates and their friends, and interacted a little more with the larger community. Each year has been a little step forward, a little bit of progress in this weird social experiment.

But it’s a lot like my goal of being a professional writer– it’s about being patient, and playing the long game. In multiple senses of the word I’m remaking myself, redefining my identity, going through a stage that I feel like most people get past in their early 20′s. I didn’t like my first try at being an adult, so now I’m having a second try, this time as the person I want to be.

And yes, I realize that to some people, there’s an irony in dressing up in costumes and writing fantasy novels while talking about adulthood. If you’re one of those people, then conventions aren’t for you. And I kind of feel sorry for you, because you’ve let society define “adulthood” instead of doing it yourself.

Next year, Dragon*Con conflicts with the World Science Fiction Convention. It’s gonna be a tough call as to which one I go to, but Dragon*Con reminded me of one thing: among cons, it is unique. Every WorldCon is unique, too, but the business networking I can get at other cons. If WorldCon is a glass of fresh-squeezed, healthy vegetable juice, then Dragon*Con is an entire bar stocked with beer and mead and wine.

And rum, of course. Can’t forget the rum. (No worries, Captain Morgan is on it.)

My Dragon*Con Photos on Flickr

To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I knew that WorldCon has a higher-than-usual percentage of professionals, and there’s more of a focus on business and networking than at other cons. There’s a lot of fannish stuff going on as well, but WorldCon is one of the best cons for rubbing shoulders with professional writers and editors and talking one-on-one (or at least few-on-one) with the pros.

My own career is still in such early stages that I’m not sure how useful networking really is. I have a finished first draft of a novel that needs a lot of polishing before it has a prayer of getting anywhere, so I’m not really looking for an editor or an agent yet. And I don’t have professional short story sales under my belt, so it’s not like I can expect an anthology invite or anything. Instead, I’m playing the long game, hoping that contacts I make now might pay off in the months and years down the road. I’m also familiarizing myself with the names in the business, and the way the business works. And, above all, I’m hopefully making some friends along the way.

I’d say WorldCon was a rousing success in all those categories. I got to see some friends from previous cons, like Matt Rotundo and Mary Robinette Kowal (who won a Hugo Award for Best Short Story!), and I met plenty of new ones. I was particularly pleased to meet the Inkpunks, a collective of writers who I’ve followed on Twitter for a long time, and various friends of theirs, as well as Cassie Alexander, who deserves special mention for inviting me into the SFWA party. *ninja eyes* I also met several Seattle authors who I’d seen and heard at events back home, including Keffy Kehrli and Liz Argall.

So much happened, it’s tough to form a cohesive narrative, so I’ll hit a few high points:

Kaffeeklatsches. I hadn’t done kaffeeklatsches at previous cons, but these are small group discussions (usually limited to 9 people) with an author or editor, which last for an hour. It’s a way to have a more intimate conversation with industry professionals, or even your own personal heroes. At WorldCon, I had kaffeeklatsches with John Scalzi, Howard Tayler, Lev Grossman, and Jennifer Brozek– these were some of my favorite hours spent at the con.

World Jay Day. Jay Lake is an author who’s been fighting a multi-year battle with cancer, and right now is undergoing chemotherapy. Despite that, he came to WorldCon to host the Hugo Awards, and is all-around an awesome guy. Diana Sherman organized a bunch of people to gather in the Dealer’s Room on Friday wearing Hawaiian shirts, and give Jay a surprise show of support. It was pretty cool.

Meeting my heroes. I got to meet several of my personal literary heroes, most notably Howard Tayler, who writes and draws the webcomic Schlock Mercenary. I suppose it’s odd that a webcomic artist would be so influential on an aspiring author, but he is, for many reasons, not the least of which is that it was through Howard that I found Writing Excuses. When I finally had the chance to talk to him one-on-one for a few seconds, I told him, I’ve been reading Schlock Mercenary for nine years, listening to Writing Excuses for three, and I have a 175,000 word fantasy novel that probably would not exist if it weren’t for you guys. My life has led all sorts of interesting places because of you, and I just wanted to say ‘thanks.’

In general, I tried to stay professional throughout the con. I didn’t geek out when I passed George R.R. Martin or Patrick Rothfuss in the hall; I didn’t squee with joy when I held Mary Robinette Kowal’s Hugo Award or frantically try to get someone take a picture of me with it. Meeting Howard was the closest I came to having a “fanboy moment”, and as I walked away, I definitely teared up.

Parties. Each night I spent a few hours surfing through the various room parties, clustered on the 15th and 16th floors of the Atlantis Hotel. Some parties were put on by fans, others by groups bidding for future WorldCons, and some by publishers. There was also a semi-exclusive lounge hosted by SFWA, which, as mentioned earlier, I got into thanks to awesome friends. My next career goal is to be able to get in to the SFWA suite at cons without help.

I won’t deny it: parties stress me out, especially when (as was frequently the case) I walk into a party without knowing anyone. My inner introvert goes into total brain-lockdown mode, and a very strong part of me just wants to find a corner and hide. But the evening parties provided some of my favorite moments of the con, including meeting and hanging out with the Inkpunks (okay, technically, that was at the bar, but it still counts); hanging out with Lev Grossman on Saturday night after he won the Campbell Award for Best New Writer; meeting Amy Sundberg, Patrick Swenson, and holy cow I could list names forever and still forget someone. Suffice it to say that everyone was totally, absolutely awesome.

The Masquerade. Costumes were not as prevalent at WorldCon as they are at many cons, but what costumes were there were extremely well done. Someday, at some con, I’ll get tired of Masquerades and stop attending them, but it was not this con.

I was seated well back, but the people immediately in front of me were short, and I was able to get some relatively good pictures without having to worry too much about people’s heads being in the way. The best-in-show winner was Torrey Stenmark, for her Avatar costume, which also won at Norwescon earlier this year.

The Hugo Awards. On Saturday night came the biggest event of WorldCon: The Hugo Awards. Given each year for the best works in the field, they’re sort of like the Oscars of Science Fiction. In every category in which I actually predicted a winner, I was right, however, my votes usually did not correspond with my predictions, and in the categories where I strongly supported one of the choices, pretty much none of them won. I don’t begrudge any of the winners their awards; they all deserved them, and nothing happened that I would decry as a travesty of literature or good taste. Too often, science fiction itself is decried as a travesty of literature and good taste– so forget that noise. Fandom is far more diverse than my particular corner of it, and I’m okay with that.

I suppose if I have one regret about WorldCon, it’s that everyone was so dang busy. There were so many people who I’d have to loved to chill with at the bar and shoot the breeze, but the con as a whole was far too crowded and busy for that. Plus, the two hotels of the con were far enough apart that travelling between them was not easy, and even each hotel on its own was so big that it was hard to find people. What the con really needed was a con bar, but alas, despite the presence of numerous bars amongst the two host hotel/casinos, a favorite never materialized.

Speaking of casinos, I managed to go through the whole con without so much as sticking a quarter in a slot machine. All the temptation for me was in the Dealer’s Room: I came home with far more books than I have room for, and I’m now having to improvise bookshelves out of every available surface in my tiny apartment. I haven’t actually had to stack books in the sink yet, but if I live here much longer, who knows what measures might need to be taken.

Now I have less than a week until Dragon*Con, and all the craziness starts all over again. Except even crazier, because well, it’s Dragon*Con.

It’s gonna be fun.

Orycon was also my first introduction to the fandom and convention scene in the Pacific Northwest. I did notice a few differences with East Coast cons– although some of this may just be my own experience. But I felt like the crowd at Orycon was, on average, several years older than the crowd at the East Coast conventions I’ve been to. It is because Orycon’s focus is more on literature and less on media? I’m not sure. But it’s quite clear that fandom spans all age groups, and that was an impression I got more strongly at Orycon than I have at any other convention. It’s kind of reassuring, actually, to know I won’t have to turn in my geek card in my later years.

I also felt like there was more of a celebration of “the other”, of “the weird”, than there was at the East Coast cons. I wrote about this aspect of conventions in my Dragon*Con write-up, and I felt it even more strongly at Orycon. The atmosphere at conventions is incredibly, marvelously, accepting. On panels, someone might casually mention that they were gay, or bisexual, or polyamorous, or pagan, or various adjectives that might get you a raised eyebrow if you were overheard on the street. But at Orycon, no one so much as batted an eye. It was all taken in stride, and even though I’m a straight white male, it felt good to be around such an accepting crowd. We all have our differences, after all, our ways which make us “weird”– and being nerds and geeks, we pretty much fall into the “weird” category by default.

But first and foremost, Orycon is a convention to celebrate sci-fi and fantasy, and as I mentioned earlier, its biggest focus is on the literature side of things. There were a lot of great writing panels, lots of readings (the zombie erotica reading was particularly interesting– I honestly wasn’t sure how that would work, but it did… some stories were even romantic), and lots of panels that were just generally fun. In fact, I’d say that Orycon had the best selection of panels of any con I’ve been to– Dragon*Con had a wider selection, of course, but Dragon*Con panels are usually gigantic. The Orycon panels were nicely sized, and usually small enough that it was easy to ask questions. I got to meet some of the panelists, and chat with a few who I already knew (notably Mary Robinette Kowal, who I have now talked to at conventions on both sides of the country), and even chip in a few puns at the “Pun-ishment” panel… which went exactly as the title implies. 4 panelists and a good chunk of the audience doing nothing but coming up with horrible puns for an entire hour. As I mentioned on Twitter, I left with a headache.

Now it’s back to Seattle, and back to the NaNoWriMo novel I’ve been putting off and falling behind on. See you next year, Orycon.

Trying to find a place to live in an unfamiliar city has not been exactly the most stress-free activity in the world, especially on a limited budget. Even when I was supposed to be working on other things, my mind kept drifting back to my living arrangements. This has been somewhat detrimental to accomplishing anything in NaNoWriMo.

To make matters worse, I’ve hit a case of Writer’s Block. Well, not “Writer’s Block” so much as “Story Block.” Two of the main characters in my fantasy novel are supposed to fall in love, but they’re both emotionally damaged, have stubborn personalities, and started out hating each other. Not exactly the easiest start for what’s supposed to become a romantic relationship, I suppose. And I do think it can work, but I’m having problems writing it in a way that’s convincing. I want to write their relationship in a way that feels right, and I’m having problems with that.

I suppose I could skip those parts and come back to them later– but I’m still not sure what these characters are going to look like after they fall in love. I mean, one’s an assassin, one’s a super-powerful mage, and both have serious issues. Maybe they won’t really fall in love, just develop a fondness for each other that never really turns into a romantic relationship. I won’t know until I write it, which means… I have to write it.

I suppose I’m not really adhering to the carefree writing spirit of NaNoWriMo by worrying about all this. I should really just be writing. Oh, well.

To add another complicating factor, I’m trying to wrap things up at work ahead of time this week so I can go down to Portland this week and attend Orycon, a local sci-fi convention. So, in addition to having less writing time this week, I’m going to lose out on a lot of writing time this weekend. At this point, I’ve pretty much accepted that I’m going to be way behind when I get back from Orycon, and will have to put in some serious writing time to catch up.

No worries. Yet.

Over a week later, as I type this up, I’m still surfing the Dragon*Con high, although it’s mostly faded into a bit of post-con depression. Real life is just so boring when you aren’t constantly walking past Star Trek characters, remote-controlled R2D2s, and beautiful women in chainmail and/or bodypaint. Here, the most pressing issues of the day have nothing to do with whether the eleventh Doctor is adequately stepping into David Tennant’s shoes, or what’s coming down the pipeline at Tor Books, or having to pick between the Adam Savage Panel and the Jim Butcher signing. Instead, if you follow the “real world” news, the biggest stories are either depressing (Afghanistan: Still a Moneysink Run By Corrupt Warlords!), pointless (See Pics of Kim Kardashian Going Shopping!), or just plain idiotic (More Inanity Spewed From Sarah Palin’s Pie-hole!).

Go on… tell me Dragon*Con isn’t an improvement.

Back in reality, the thousand pressing details of day to day life take a dreary precedence over the images and stories that conjure brilliant, fiery passion in the minds and imaginations of countless people. And in my opinion, the world is a duller place for it.

For me, Dragon*Con was an affirmation and a release. It was a release because when confronted with situations that make my inner introvert quiver– like a party, or a group of professional writers going to dinner– I didn’t retreat into the corner. I stepped up and joined in. I made friends. And I had a hell of a lot of fun.

It was an affirmation because for four days, I was surrounded by fantasy and science fiction fans, by writers, by geeks of all shapes and stripes. Here, if you say “I want to write fantasy novels!” people will cheer you on and encourage you. In reality, people will often look at you as if to say, “Don’t most people get past that stage by the time they’re out of high school?” For someone like me, not always comfortable with the oddities of his own personality, it was affirming to be around thousands of people with similar oddities, indeed, celebrating them.

And in a broader sense, it’s not just being geeks that unites us. I think it’s something even bigger. The people who attend Dragon*Con are people who, by and large, live their lives, set their values, and define their happiness according to their own rules, not the rules that society tries to impose. Whether that means spending hundreds of hours on elaborate costumes, or writing novels and stories for years simply because you love to, or even skeptically thinking about the religion you grew up with– it all comes down to thinking your own way, finding happiness in unusual places, and living life the way you want. I think in one sense it’s a side effect of being a geek, but it’s also deeper than that. It’s an all-too-rare combination of independent thought and passion, but at Dragon*Con for four days I was completely surrounded by it. It was incredibly energizing, and affirming, and I miss it already.

So there you have it. This whole Dragon*Con series of posts has been a little more personal in nature than might ordinarily belong on what is supposed to be a writing blog, but to the extend that my journey as a writer mirrors my journey as a person, then they belong just fine. And the trend’s probably going to keep up, because a lot of plans that have been in the works for a long time are finally coming to fruition. (Stay tuned for a blog entry about why I quit my job.)

But regardless of where I end up in a year, if I can make it back to con, I’ll be happy.

Fin

By then it was about midnight, and the Dragon*Con party was in full swing. I was still feeling a bit like an outsider, though. The only people I knew well were off doing their own thing, and weren’t really into the party scene anyway. So I walked around for a bit, taking pictures of the cool costumes and mainly just people watching. I thought about joining in on the drinking, but the crowd around the Marriott bar was rather large and intimidating at that point, so feeling a bit discouraged and more than a bit tired, I called it an early night.

When Saturday evening rolled around, I kicked it off by going to a late-night panel on writing sexy science fiction. Dragon*Con panels tend to get more interesting around 10 pm, but this one continued a trend of somewhat-disappointing writing panels at the con. The trend had been started on Friday when a somewhat-interesting panel on Let’s Build a Story in an Hour! turned into Let’s Build a Story out of Tired Crime Drama Cliches! Now, in the author’s defense, he was trying to construct a serious story by taking audience suggestions… but the audience was really only useful for silly suggestions, as is wont to happen during that sort of thing. Trying to build a serious murder mystery when the starting concept is a bagel is not easy.

Anyway, for some reason– call me crazy, but I suspect it was because the panelists were mostly female– the Writing Sexy Science Fiction panel turned into a discussion on why men don’t share their feelings these days. (To which I reply: duh, that’s what blogs are for!) So, somewhat disappointed at not having learned how to better write steamy sci-fi sex scenes– I suppose I’ll have to rely on reading Heinlein novels for that– I skipped out early. And with my trusty camera at the ready, I headed out into the general chaos of Saturday night Dragon*Con.

A quick lesson in Dragon*Con geography, for those who have not personally experienced it: the convention spans five large host hotels in downtown Atlanta. The Sheraton and the Westin are a little bit out of the way, but the other three, the Hilton, Marriott, and the Hyatt, are all in a line and connected by sky bridges. This is where the big party happens: it’s essentially a mix-and-mingle party that spans three city blocks and numerous bars scattered across the hotels. From what I’ve seen, the Hyatt is where the heaviest drinking happens (not that it doesn’t happen elsewhere, it’s just heavier at the Hyatt), while the Marriott, with its wide open lobby spanning three spacious floors, is the best place to show off and admire costumes. The Hilton’s main attraction is a karaoke bar, for those who are into that sort of thing… and it’s a little less crowded, for those looking to escape the claustrophobia-inducing conditions at the Hyatt and Marriott. There are also a myriad of concerts and themed parties in the hotel ballrooms that stretch until the wee hours of the morning, and plenty of lesser-known, more exclusive parties for those with the right connections (i.e. connections better than mine).

I made my way through the crowds, stopping frequently to take pictures, and having a few drinks of my own. By 2 am I was feeling pretty good, so I moseyed back on over to the Hilton and listened to karaoke for a bit. The crowd was really friendly to the singers, even to the ones that couldn’t carry a tune with both hands and a bucket, so with alcohol-fueled courage I weaved my way up to the front to sign up for a song. But, alas, foiled! Karaoke was so popular they had cut off sign-ups. I stayed to listened for a bit over one last rum and coke, and called it a night about 3 am.

Sunday evening: the last night at Dragon*Con. I still felt like I hadn’t really experienced the party. Sure, I had had some drinks and taken some pictures, but not really talked to anyone or done anything. And this was the last night of the con! Clearly, something needed to change.

I decided what I needed was something to help me feel more at home with the crowd: I needed a costume. But I didn’t want something flashy or flamboyant; I just wanted something subtle, a little reminder that I wasn’t just out to take pictures.

But what to do? I’ve avoided costuming at cons so far, not because it doesn’t appeal to me, but mainly because I haven’t had anyone to do with. Well, I thought, to heck with that… I’m going to do it anyway. But when it comes to cosplay, simply dressing up in unusual clothing doesn’t interest me so much as the idea of transforming, of becoming someone or something else. (Insert psychology thesis here about how this relates to my various neuroses.)

I passed a little booth that was selling latex prosthetics, and an idea hit me: devil horns! Not the fabric ones that clip onto your hair; actual latex horns glued on with spirit gum. It would be subtle, but not too subtle. And as those were being painted to match my skin, I mulled the collection of pointed ears and, well, what’s a demon-fae-creature-thing without pointed ears? So sporting horns and pointed ears, and feeling just “different” enough to blend in with the crowd, I made my last stop: a facepainting booth, where I let Natalie of Doozers Workshop have her way with my face. End result:

I actually think the horns blended better with my face than it looks, but they also reflected the flash better. Here’s another pic of me and Brandon Sanderson, when I ran across him in the Dealer’s Room signing books:

I wasn’t feeling the need for a wardrobe change; pretty much the only concession I made to my “devil-ized” face was to put on a red t-shirt. And to be honest, I sort of liked the mix of strange face and street clothing. It wasn’t exactly going all out, but I had done what I wanted: join, in both mind and appearance, the ranks of the weird.

I still didn’t know anybody out party-surfing, but dammit, I was going to party anyway. That night I made my way up to the bar, hung out and downed drinks with the best of them. I tried for karaoke, but once again did not get there early enough to sign up… geeks and karaoke are apparently a potent combo. Oh, I still took pictures (who couldn’t!), but for the first time, I felt like I was part of the crowd, not just observing it from the other side of a camera lens. I even talked with a few people, although I never really found anyone to hang out with for long. This was probably why I made my way to the Hyatt around 2 am to attend a Cruxshadows concert. (Cruxshadows is a gothic rock band with a big presence at Dragon*Con and some rather sexy dancers.) The interesting thing about this is that I don’t actually remember attending the concert, but I must have, because I found pictures of it on my camera:

It was a good party.

Afterward I do remember throwing up outside the Hyatt and falling asleep in a corner of the hotel patio, then getting woken up a short while later by a trio of concerned-looking EMTs. Man, I remember thinking as they helped me to my feet… that’s gotta be a sucky job. Wandering around Dragon*Con at 3:30 am, checking passed-out drunks for signs of life?

Puking up most of the alcohol had apparently saved me, as I was able to walk with only a minor wobble, and eventually they let me go and I made my way back to the Hilton. Karaoke had long since ended, so I hung out for a while and chatted with some equally-out-of-it members of the Dragon*Con skeptics track. Like everybody else at con, they were awesome. It wasn’t until the clock was getting on toward 5 am that I gave into reality and made my way up to the room.

Yup. Definitely a good party.

Part 4 here.

And of course, there’s all sorts of weirdness.  Really, the only unifying theme is that all of it falls under the banner of what mainstream society might consider “geek”.  There’s sci-fi and fantasy geeks, gaming geeks, roleplay geeks, cosplay geeks, writing geeks, science geeks, computer geeks… you  get my point.  If you’re a geek and you’re at Dragon*Con, you are surrounded by your people.

As for me, I was hoping to get a chance to network with the writing crowd, much like I was able to do at NASFIC.  The chance to hobnob with successful writers, to hang out among people who embarked on this crazy dream and are actually doing it, is great.  Of course, Dragon*Con is a much different beast than NASFIC– larger, much more chaotic, and in general less conducive to actually meeting the panelists and guests.  Nevertheless, several authors and editors from NASFIC were coming to Dragon*Con, including Matt Rotundo, Gray Rinehart, and Mary Robinette Kowal.  Also coming: one of my favorite authors of all time, Brandon Sanderson. His books are great, but the main reason I’m such a big fan is a podcast called Writing Excuses, which he co-hosts with Dan Wells and Howard Tayler, and which I’ve raved about before.

I got to indulge my writing jones for the first time on Friday afternoon, when Brandon gave a reading from his new novel, Way of Kings… and then from his children’s series Alcatraz, and finally from a book called Scribbler that he’s working on for next year.  I mostly sat there in awe.  The man has released three large fantasy novels this year, and has plenty coming down the pipeline.  He is a MACHINE, and his writing is getting progressively better.  This is even more impressive because his work was dang good to start with.

A short while later, I attended Mary Robinette Kowal’s reading of her novel Shades of Milk and Honey.  Matt Rotundo and Gray Rinehart were there, so already it felt like a NASFIC reunion. After the reading ended, Mary was immediately caught up in various conversations, but I hung out, waiting for a chance to say hi. Around that time, I looked toward the back of the room and saw a man sitting by himself who looked vaguely familiar. I did a double-take, peered at his badge, and realized it was Dan Wells, co-host of previously-mentioned podcast Writing Excuses and phenomenal horror writer!

Feeling only a brief twinge of anxiety, I walked up and introduced myself, and proceeded to chat with him about Writing Excuses, his upcoming book (Mr. Monster, due out September 28th!), and even had the chance to ask him some questions about living as a writer. After a few minutes, the crowd had thinned enough that the only people still left in the room were Mary, Matt, and a few other professional writers who were all friends of Mary’s. Dan went up and join them, and I did so as well, even though, much like at NASFIC, I was feeling far too professionally unqualified to be standing there.

It was about 6:30 in the evening at that point, so talk turned to dinner. The introvert in me (which, let’s be honest, is the vast part of the brain) was screaming that it was time to head for the hills. In fact, almost every fiber of my being was twinging that I needed to leave, that it was awkward for me to be here, that this wasn’t my place.

But for possibly only the second time in my life (the first time being at NASFIC), I fought that urge. I didn’t blush and bow out. I stood my ground as introductions were made, and then as the group filtered out the door, I asked Matt, “mind if I tag along?”

He didn’t, of course. Every professional writer I’ve met has been extremely down-to-earth and friendly. Which was, how a short while later, I found myself having dinner at a table with Dan, Matt, and his wife. Mary was also in the group, as were Leanna Renee Hieber and Alethea Kontis, although thanks to the over-crowded restaurant they had to sit at a separate table. Later, after Leanna and Alethea had to leave, Mary joined us at our table for dessert, and so I sat between Dan, Mary, and Matt over a shared slice of cake, chatting about the con and quizzing them about what it’s like living out West (Dan lives in Utah, Mary lives in Portland, Matt lives in Omaha). Not only did I get a lot of useful information and make some new friends, I also– and I can’t really over-emphasize how important this is from a personal perspective– didn’t give into my introvert’s natural urge to flee at the first opportunity. I’m slowly coming to the realization that networking and talking with fellow writers and fellow geeks is really, really fun and I want to do it more. The long-delayed budding of a seed of extroversion? I suspect it has a long way to go. But it’s a start.

Part 3 here.

Also, I’ve finished uploading my Dragon*Con pictures. The full collection can be found here.

On one level it’s a massive sci-fi/fantasy convention. There are dealer’s rooms, art galleries, and booths where comic book artists display and hawk their wares. There are fascinating panels and discussions on everything that could even be considered remotely “geeky”: science fiction, fantasy, computers, NASA and space travel, fantasy and comic book art, writing, even rational thought and skepticism. People in these businesses come to meet their peers and network. Famous people come to give talks, answer questions, and sign autographs. And everyone comes to meet friends, hang out with a bunch of like-minded people, and party.

Because this is the second level of Dragon*Con: Nerdy Gras. Four solid days of geeks both shattering and confirming the stereotypes, proving that you can party with the best even while you’re dressed like Spock. Here, thousands of people who normal society would call weird get together and celebrate, nay, revel in their weirdness. The music blares, the drinks flow, and the people are awesome.

Last year I went to Dragon*Con, and I had fun, but really, I was just an observer. I didn’t arrive until Friday evening, so I missed an entire day. I stayed by myself at an offsite hotel. I didn’t dress up. Sure, I went to panels, and bought cool swag, and had enough fun that I wanted to come back, but it simply didn’t compare to this year. This year, I drank fully and deeply from the cup that is Dragon*Con. And I’m not just talking about the beer.

This year I stayed on-site, which just by itself made a huge amount of difference. Not only did it mean I could party into the wee hours and then walk back to the hotel room, it also meant I was interacting with more people. By staying on-site and having roommates, I was much more connected with the con community, which in my opinion, is really what makes Dragon*Con fun. Even though I didn’t hang out with my roomies that much (we were all busy doing our own thing), simply having that connection was nice. And it did provide interesting moments, like when I got rope burn from helping a girl do up her corset for a party. Or when I got into the room on Friday evening, only to find Zombie Marie Antoinette setting down her cake and taking off her wig.

I was sharing a room at the Hilton with seven other people, which sounds like a lot… heck, it is a lot. But it fits right in with the crowded chaos of the con. (Hey, if I’m going to embrace it, might as well embrace it wholeheartedly, right?) Luckily, we kept different enough schedules that the room never felt too cramped, and it was usually even possible to get a shower when I wanted. Doesn’t mean I’ll be looking for seven roommates next year… but all in all, it wasn’t bad. And at least as far as embracing the chaos, it laid the foundation for the rest of the con.

Part 2 here.

Also, I’m still uploading and organizing photos, but the set can be found on Flickr here. It will grow considerably over the next few days.

Since we’re allowed to share our entries, here’s mine. I think it is, almost certainly, the geekiest thing I’ve ever written (and keep in mind that I say this as a former writer of anime fanfiction). Not that that’s a bad thing, mind you. I’m just sayin’.

———————–

The Bacon Chronicles: I Can Has Vengeance?

John walked through the remnants of the Dealer’s Room, smoke still rising from the scattered debris. Amidst the scraps of wacky slogans still legible on burned T-shirts, and the torn pages fluttering on the breeze, lay utter devastation. His nose burned at the horrific stench. It wasn’t the stench usually associated with such conventions… no, this was the stench of death. But the smell of incoming bacon was absent, which meant for the moment he was safe.

Nearby, someone coughed weakly. Under the carpet of wreckage was a survivor! He dug through a layer of unpainted Warhammer figurines and then, lifting aside the charred remains of a Felicia Day love doll (was that sort of merchandise even legal?), he uncovered a person’s head. It was… green! And the visage looked familiar somehow.

“Are you okay?” he asked the injured man.

Suddenly, recognition dawned on both of them. “SCALZI!”

#

Wil awoke in darkness. The ground was rocky; he seemed to be in some sort of cave. What had happened? He struggled to remember. He had been judging the Star Trek Papier-mâché Hat Contest, when suddenly the room had shook. A horrible noise and odor had overwhelmed his senses, like a roomful of LARPers after Taco Night, and then blackness.

Something moved in a distant corner of the cave, and he smelled… breakfast? The scent of bacon filled his nostrils. Then, from deep in the blackness, he saw a pair of glowing green eyes. “U are Da Wheaton.”

The voice was calm, dispassionate, but high-pitched, as if Leonard Nimoy had been born a chipmunk. And somehow, Wil could even hear the misspelled words. “U has proven urself worthy,” it continued, “and we has brought u here to serve a great purpose.”

“Purpose?” he coughed. “Where am I?”

“Our lair. Our refuge, where we pwanned our revenge after Da Enemy humiwiated us!”

The eyes of the creature passed from the shadow into the light, giving Wil his first good look at his captor. The thing was undeniably cute, but the scent of bacon mixed with the evil glare in its eyes served to create a simmering atmosphere of delicious terror.

It had the front of a kitten, the back half of a horse, and massive feathery wings. A golden unicorn horn stuck out of its head, and as Wil stared into the creature’s eyes, he felt his mind wilting away, as though it was somehow invading his very thoughts.

The kitten approached, and he shrank back from the atrociously adorable abomination.

“U will help us destroy our enemy,” it said. “Our enemy, who cursed us wif dis burden. Dis… fing.” It turned to the side, displaying what looked like strips of bacon attached to its flank. “We will suffer dis insult no wonger. Our enemy will pay dearly for da torment it has infwitced upon us!” The kitten paused for dramatic effect. “We are Da Roflmeow, and we will has revenge!”

#

Scalzi stared at his spinach-colored doppelganger, considering for a brief moment that “Spinach Colored Doppelganger” would be a superb name for a rock band. For another brief moment, he considered piling debris back on the thing’s Scalziesque countenance, finding the remains of the hotel bar, and seeing how much whiskey he could get through before help arrived. But then his chartreuse counterpart spoke.

“Thank the gods! I am Scalzorc of The Clan Sifwa, and we have little time. Hurry, John Scalzi, I require your aid!”

Scalzi sighed, put aside his plans for intoxication, and began helping unbury the orc. The day had started so innocuously. He had been on his way to host a panel on Green Chicks in Sci-fi, when an earthquake had struck. He had tried to get outside, but instead found himself helping pull people from the wreckage of the Dealer’s Room. Then, a chasm had appeared in the floor, swallowing an entire booth of novelty dice, and the aroma of bacon had filled the air as something emerged from the hole.

In the smoky darkness it looked like the offspring of a kitten and a pterodactyl, as if some uber-cute Nazgul had emerged from the depths of hell. It had lunged toward him, and he had taken refuge under a table of Brandon Sanderson hardcovers, frozen in terror until the bacon-scented monstrosity had disappeared.

The Scalzorc stood up, and he realized that the two of them really were mirror images of each other, right down to the goatee. “Okay,” he crossed his arms, “being John Scalzi is my schtick. What’s the deal?”

The Scalzorc unsheathed his weapon and shield from his back. “I am hunting my nemesis, and it hunts me. Across realities and universes we have battled, and now we battle here.”

Scalzi looked at the strange orc and wondered how, exactly, he had fallen into Lord of the Rings/Sliders crossover fanfiction.

“This ‘enemy’,” he said. “What is it, exactly?”

“A monster beyond time and space,” the Scalzorc said. “which I have never been able to kill. The best I could do was place a burden on its flanks, which would alert me whenever it approached.”

Realization dawned on him. “The bacon.”

The Scalzorc nodded. “Yes, during a ferocious battle, I was able to attach strips of bacon to its flank, so it could never sneak up on me.” The Scalzorc tapped his nose. “I can smell bacon from leagues distant. It is the favored food source of our clan.”

“And what does your nose say now?”

The Scalzorc sniffed the air. “I smell nothing. The creature must have retreated from this world back to my own. We must go.”

“Wait, ‘we’?” Scalzi asked. “I’m just a writer. If I had other talents, I’d have a real job.”

“You are the Scalzi of this world, are you not?” The orc turned to him. “All Scalzis, of all worlds, are connected to this creature. You will never be free of it, until it is dead.” The orc walked over to the wreckage of a medieval armor-and-weaponry stand and lifted a crossbow. “Take this. As a Scalzi, it is your destiny to hunt this creature, and halt its trail of devastation.”

Scalzi reached for the crossbow. “I’ll do it, on one condition.”

“Yes?”

“I want the character rights for this story.”

#

“I has brought ur armor to dis place as well,” said the Roflmeow. “Is how u proved ur worth to me. Put it on, den we must go.”

“My armor? But I’m not a warrior…”

“U ARE!” The eyes of The Roflmeow burned into him, and Wil felt his resistance to the creature fading as he stared into its demonically adorable face. “I HAS SEEN U DO FINGS DAT WOULD DESTROY A WESSER MAN! U HAS PROVEN UR BRAVERY AND FEARWESSNESS MANYFOLD, BUT NUN MORE SO DEN WEN YOU DONNED DA ARMOR!”

Wil’s will wilted, weakened by the withering, willful words of the wicked… um, Woflmeow.

“NOW PUT ON DA ARMOR!”

He realized that something was laying at the creature’s feet. It was not armor, just a sweater. But it looked vaguely familiar, and as he realized what it was, the tattered remains of his sanity fled screaming like a little girl.

#

When he had donned the clown sweater, that tragic garment which still haunted his nightmares, the last mental remnant of Wil Wheaton had fled, most likely to the nearest subconscious tavern for several pints of mental Guinness.

The shattered man who now rode The Evil Roflmeow, adorned in Evil clown sweater and clutching an Evil halberd in his Evil right hand as he furrowed his Evil brow, had no more remnants of Wil Wheaton in him than the Evil tar beast had had of Tasha Yar after devouring her in the TNG Episode “Skin of Evil”.

They emerged from The Roflmeow’s cave, and soared over the volcanic landscape, seeking prey. Rivers of lava flowed below them, lighting up the barren plains. Then, in the dark red glare, the Clown-Sweatered Man Formerly Known as Wheaton spotted their target.

#

A squeal filled the air, and from the clouds of ash, a monstrous shape emerged. Scalzi watched, horrified, as the thing flew toward the Scalzorc, with Wil Wheaton, vengeful clown god of the heavens, riding upon the monster’s back. Wait… what? Somehow, Wil had fallen under the evil creature’s influence!

There was no time to think. From his hidden vantage point, he fired the crossbow at The Roflmeow, sending the bolt arcing through the air. But at the last moment, the Roflmeow dived, and the bolt whistled over the monster’s head.

#

The remnants of Wil Wheaton, watching through the eyes of the body that now acted solely at the Roflmeow’s whim, saw the enemy turn. The man had green skin, but he looked familiar. The scruffy goatee… the thinning hairline… my god, it’s Scalzi!

Summoning his last ounce of strength, Wil struggled to turn the halberd away from his friend. The Roflmeow was so caught up in its dive, claws reaching out for its nemesis, that its control slipped, and Wheaton, with a supreme act of Wilpower, twisted the halberd and plunged it not into the mysteriously orcish Scalzi, but into the feline head of his tormentor instead.

#

Scalzi watched, stunned, as Wil suddenly made a face like a Tyrannosaurus passing a beachball, and plunged his halberd into the kitten’s head. But too late! The creature slammed into the Scalzorc, and the pair of them, along with Wil, fell to the ground in a pile of wings, weapons, and Wheatons. He hurried over.

Wil lay slumped over the Roflmeow’s limp form. “Scalzi? You’re not green any more…”

“No, that was…” he realized the Scalzorc was still trapped under the Roflmeow. A moment later, he found the Scalzorc pinned, his head sticking out from under the monster’s corpse.

“Scalzi… is it over?”

“Yes,” he said, “it’s over.”

“Good,” he whispered, “then Scalzis everywhere may live their lives without fear, and I may rest at last… forever.”

“Wait,” said Scalzi, “we can get this off you!”

“It is too late, my human friend,” said the Scalzorc. “Go. Danger approaches.”

The ground rumbled, and the red glow in the air grew more intense. In the distance, Scalzi saw that a river of lava had split in two, with one branch headed right for them! He hoisted Wil’s arm over his shoulder, helping him climb up an embankment to safety. Scalzi turned and watched as the two fallen enemies were consumed by the lava, and raised a hand in silent salute to his friend.

At last, he turned to Wil. “I have no idea how we’re going to get home.”

Wil thought for a moment, and snapped his fingers. “I know! Reverse the polarity!”

“Polarity? Polarity of what?”

“Hell if I know… but whenever we didn’t know what to do on Star Trek, we reversed something’s polarity.”

Scalzi looked down at the clown sweater that Wil still wore. “I have an idea. Give me that thing.”

As he turned the clown sweater inside out and Wil put it back on, the ground shook. “It’s working! Thank God for Deus Ex Machina!”

A chasm opened in the ground, and they fell through.

#

“I’m home!”

Scalzi opened the door, and hugged Krissy as she threw her arms around him. “Welcome back, honey. How was the con?”

“Well… it gave me a great idea for a story.”

A soft meow attracted his attention, and he reached down and scratched behind the cat’s ears. “Hey, Ghlaghghee. I hope you had a better weekend than I did.”

He stood up to hug Krissy one more time, completely missing the strange gleam that emanated from Ghlaghghee’s eyes, and the faint smell of bacon that permeated the kitty’s fur.