GoH gofer go!

Apparently I am both awesome and organised. How about that?
Back from VCon, where I set up the SF-Canada table, which was fiddly but not difficult, and followed Cherie Priest about, which was fun. I was unsure how officious and flunky-like to be, but she is among the least diva-like people imaginable, and by Sunday I was just waving as she went by and asking 'Need anything?'.
So, y'know, it was mostly a matter of not screwing up majorly, which I can often manage, though I did splash dumpling-filling over myself at the Shanghai River (which is a restaurant). Mark and Cherie ate a good deal of a rock cod, unfazed by its head and outspread fins.
Should I be chronological? Can I do that and still skip the boring bits?

Let's see.
Thursday: I packed like mad. Took 1pm sailing to Tswawassen, then bus and skytrain to Richmond. Walked to the Marriott. Found VCon people, found that Cherie had been safely picked up and was sleeping in her room. Helped carry stuff to art room. Helped carry stuff to hospitality. Went off with Michael Walsh (the man with the Daffy Duck tie) to haul stuff from their place to hospitality. Hung about in lobby waiting for people to show up. Introduced Dave Duncan & Cherie Priest to each other. Went for dinner at the Mad Greek with guests of honour and concom (this for being liaison/gofer for a GoH). Cherie Priest and Heather Dale are good raconteurs (raconteuses?) and Cherie told ghost stories plus amusing stories of personal injuries.
Returned to hotel, found husband setting up his tables, in midst of considerable confusion over how all the dealers tables would fit in the room and question of whether hotel was really going to supply the tables originally requested (request having been lost and hotel disclaiming knowledge). Situation not aided by dealer coordinator walking off with one and only layout map several times. I am encouraged to take one of the tables and set up, so as to be harder to dislodge. Do so. This works, although table is several times moved, finally squashed into corner which does have advantage of providing vertical visibility for SF-Canada banner. Books are brought, accumulating to a lively display. Every single one of the plate-stand book-stand thingies that I bought and that Mark lent me is eventually used, as is every one of the DISPLAY COPY slips that I printed out. About 1/3 of the table is dedicated to display copies, with notes about where they can be purchased at the con.
Friday: more setup of table, and rearrangement as it is moved. Registration is having trouble connecting and setting up. I make roughly calligraphed signs saying PRE-REG and REGISTRATION but wickedly do not bother to pick up my registration packet until much later when the computer setup is mostly working and the nasty big pre-reg line has died down.
Registration is supposed to have Cherie's schedule, but cannot find it in the database. I borrow Johanna-the-lovely-Media-lady's programme book and mark all of Cherie's panels in the pocket program, then deliver a marked copy to Cherie. Later I meet Pauline who has a thumb-drive with the schedule in it. She gives me printouts and a tent-card to deliver. Do so. Run into Dave Duncan who is off to dentist to have tooth glued back in.
Attend opening ceremonies possibly first time in years. Go for dinner at Shanghai River with GoH and own husband. Terrifying tales of book launches and book fairs. Attend Heather Dale concert.
Saturday: breakfast at hotel's buffet, mostly okay. Knock on Cherie's door to find her working on article for Subterranean. She comes for breakfast and chat. Terrifying tales of deadlines. In between table duty and rearranging books as more arrive, and hearing rumours that Chris and Shannon are on site, I attend You Suck! No, You Suck! panel on workshops; GoH interview; How Did That Get on My Cover?; Draw Me This!; and am invited onto the Vampire panel by Sandra Wickham, which is very flattering. Finally find Chris and Shannon at that panel. Mark, Chris, Shannon and I go for a family dinner at No. 9 restaurant. SF Canada party and bed, in that order.
Sunday: breakfast at hotel buffet. Check schedule with Cherie, who now knows her way around the hotel better than I do. Final bids on art show (trying for another of Danielle's cool little shadow boxes). Make it to panel I really want to attend - History is my Playground. Pretty good. Book takedown and packing, pick up art show wins, sneak some time at Turkey Readings, yay!

Clever things I did: asked my niece Piper to cat-and-house-sit.
Found two small red tablecloths, so I could put one at each end of the SFC table, with the white cloth in between suggesting the Canadian flag, PLUS the two contrasting colours meant a book could always be put on a surface that let it stand out (yes, I totally planned this, and it had nothing to do with the first two tablecloths I pulled out of my someday-I'll-paint-this box. Nothing.)
Married a man who would lend me almost a dozen stands for books so they could be visible from a distance.
Asked my BNF friend Betty about the duties of a gofer.
Made up flyers with text swiped from the SFC website.
Went to bed by midnight each night.
Got almost all the money and leftover books back to someone responsible by the end of the con--except for those needing to be mailed, which remain with me.

There was a multi-author book launch Friday, in a room with rather definite acoustics. And just for Terri, here's a little film of one table, with Dave Duncan and other members of SF-Canada:





Lately, as my regular readers will expect, I have been beset by apples (which as a phrase is very nearly a googlewhack), to add to which I inexplicably brought home two large buckets of apples from my brother's trees. So, I've been processing apples to make apple crumbles, and when I have sixteen or so in the freezer I'll move on to pies. I'm feeling somewhat paranoid about getting done with the apples, since I'll be away for very nearly 3 weeks from the end of October, when they'll be dropping like mad.
Which is to say that I've been processing apples most nights, interspersed with packing up stuff for a sales-and-display table at VCon, trying for 600 words minimum each morning (which seems to be my comfortable rate for an hour's work). And trying not to worry about prep for the trip to Golden Swan, or about how to pack for both World Fantasy and hiking about in the UK in the rain.
Which is to say that I probably could have been more organised, but things went reasonably well nonetheless.

fish, fowl or red herring?

Please remain seated during paradigm shift.

So, I was getting organised for VCon, looking for room-mates, checking out programming, and popping off emails because I seem to have volunteered to organise the SF-Canada book table (oh, yeah, I'm a year-old member of SF-Canada, did I mention that previously? by virtue of 2 short story sales to online markets). I went to the VCon website to see what had been updated.

Oh, look, I said to myself. There's a Writing Workshop this year, yay! Because last year there wasn't, and I was sad. VCon in 2006 was my first experience with a face-to-face writing workshop, and I really enjoyed it, plus got practice for the crit sessions at Viable Paradise right afterwards.
Do I have anything to submit, I wondered, running through my very short list of short stories, and shorter list of those never workshopped. And who'll be running the sessions?

I looked at the list and felt dizzy. There's Dave Duncan, writing since the 1980s, and Eileen Kernaghan, award-winning YA author, and a half-dozen others, but--I know all the names. They're names (not surprisingly, once I thought about it) from SF-Canada.
Of which I am a member.
I'm not up there with multi-published authors who've been writing for 20 years, but still related in kind (species? phylum?). Not ready to be on the pro side of a writing workshop, but--I think--at the point of it probably being awkward to be met on the receiving side.

Rather unsettling to be neither one nor the other, and leaves me deprived of face-to-face workshopping with people who understand sf/f. I suppose the only remedy is to keep at it until I earn my place on the pro side.

Onion sauce! Onion sauce!

Writery stuff:
I've been wandering about dazedly the last few days, feeling rather like Mole in the opening of Wind in the Willows, squinting in the spring daylight after a winter underground. I came very near shouting 'Onion sauce! Onion sauce!' at the campus rabbits on Friday.
Because! Willow Knot, revised up to 120k from its hacked-down 105k, has gone off to my agent in both electronic and paper forms. This makes me feel much more like An Agented Author, because I've filled in my side of the agreement, for the first go-round anyways. I fully expect to have more to hack out and fill in and smooth over.
This weekend, though--Happy Thanksgiving!--I'll be reading other people's published books, baking an apple pie for the boy, and maybe watching dvds. And updating my blog. I've already slept in to 8 am, like a slothful sloth (except not upside down).

You may recall that I figured to have the revision done and dusted by the 14th. Well yeah. There was what one might call the Fortunate Fall of my desktop computer having kicked over in mid-August, leaving me with no large screen monitor. I love my eee (on which I am writing now) but its screen can be covered by one hand. And I seriously needed a big screen to read over the revision for flow. Half a page at a time was not enough.
Paul gave me his old Mac laptop, which has a screen at least as big as my dead desktop's. And he loaded it with the free trial of Scrivener, which he and Mark have been pimping to me for a while. So I shoved WK into Scrivener, a fairly easy task since I'd broken it into scenes and given the scenes descriptive titles already, and took a good hard look at the story flow.
That was when I fell in love.

Yes, I love Scrivener madly. I would bake it cookies and run hot baths for it, and haunt used bookshops looking for missing volumes in its uniform editions of Mark Twain. Like that.
And Scrivener revealed to me that I could knock one more winter off the forest section. And it showed me that the palace section desperately needed a 12th Night masque with a dancing bear.* It let me look at two scenes at once so I could meld them into one scene without losing the important bits. It let me look at a floorplan of the palace while I walked characters through. And it compiled the whole shebang together in order at the end.
Okay, there were some Adventures in Formatting for me then, because Open Office decided to indent all first lines, most of which were already indented (because I do that), and the font changed in one chapter for no apparent reason, and so on. But most of that was my not realising just how much Scrivener does, plus the usual sort of wackiness found in moving files through different systems and different word processing programs.
So I've bunged Cost of Silver into Scrivener, and I'm going to muddle about with the status and label settings now that I have an idea how they work. And yes, I've registered Scrivener, I did that about 20 days into the free trial.
Note: I am not a convert to Mac. But I'm willing to use one for the sake of Scrivener.

The Outside World well sort of:
Had a fine time at V-Con last weekend. I was invited to be on a panel(!) by the kind offices of Susan Walsh. The topic was Vampires We Have Known and Loved, with Tanya Huff, Rhea Rose, etc. Tanya was lovely and gracious, answered a number of questions about the tv series and about sequels to her past series, and did her best not to dominate the panel despite the audience attention. Two of the panelists were on because they'd just contributed to a vamp anthology calle Evolve, and another was a voice actor who'd done a vampirish villain or two. And me.
So I took the folklore tack and commented on how the vamp concept has changed over the years, a little bit on the challenge of portraying vampires in a historical setting (Stuart England) where there was no concept of blood-drinking walking undead (oh look, I'm plugging the book I haven't finished yet!). I did plug Paul Barber's indispensable Vampires, Burial and Death, and read a few paragraphs from Varney the Vampire, or, The Feast of Blood!
Several people took down both titles, as well they should.

VCon's art show was terrific this year, far better than the show at Worldcon. It was disappointing how few bids there were. So I bought art.
I bought a Melissa Duncan print (okay technically I have this on credit, but she knows where I live). Terri, you should check out this lady's art! (I thought I'd seen a more extensive website of her work, but can't find it now)
And two small pieces by Valeria de Rege, lovely quirky little paintings on wood blocks, some with text taken from sf novels.
I restricted myself to only one of Danielle Stephens's brilliant little papercraft shadowboxes. She does not have a website, so I'll have to take a photo and post it to show you what they're like.
Pauline Walsh doesn't have a website either, so I'll have to do the same to show you the charming little femo Hermit Thing that I got.

The VCon hotel (Marriott Pinnacle) had a whole set of Stupid Policies that made it a questionable choice for a con. Food had to be consumed in the room where it was purchased (so the Dealers Room theoretically had no food for those manning tables). No costumes in the lobby, the pool, or the (overpriced) restaurant--'costume' being undefined. No weapons, again undefined, anywhere. No groups of four or more people in the lobby--think about that one.
The staff I dealt with were all pleasant and professional, but they were stuck with enforcing nebulous and discriminatory policies. The elevators from one public level to another stopped running at midnight, forcing one lady (filksinger?) with mobility problems to use the shiny slippery stairs. Another woman, who had changed out of her costume into street clothes, was asked to leave the restaurant because she didn't match the (unposted?) dress code, although her companion was diabetic and needed to eat. They walked to a McDonalds.
Like most high-end hotels, they overcharged for internet, $16 day and I'm not sure they had wireless. The bottle of water in the room cost $4.50. No fridge, only a cooler with a broken door.
Beds were comfy though, and it was possible to turn the a/c and heat off and not be woken in the night by roaring.
Actually it was just as well that we couldn't get internet at the hotel. It meant I finished revisions, instead of browsing the web.
What else? I did a couple of shifts on the SF-Canada table, and hand-sold at least one more copy of Eileen Kernaghan's The Snow Queen, which is a terrific treatment of the fairy tale. And bought a couple more books for myself.

*I did go and check whether the perceived need for dancing bears was one of the varieties of insanity known to affect authors. Fortunately it isn't.

my writing space

Orogeny posted a pic of her writing space, and I am torn between envy and admiration, especially of her gorgeous red sponge-painted wall. Athenais has a lovely clean-lined one as well.
Me?
Well, I have two spaces. Here's my downstairs isolation cell (no internet access) where srs writting gets done:


It's a window seat, and I am a total sucker for window seats (one of the reasons we bought the house, the main one being a room big enough for the 10x4' table). This is where I write in the mornings, when the house is quiet.
It doesn't look nearly as cluttered as it actually is, due to my not being able to show the full space. Wait, this is what it looks like from my side (note clutter):


And here's my upstairs writing space--I do have a sponge-painted wall behind it, in 'colours left over from the painters'.



I guess 'comfortable clutter' is about the kindest I can say, here.

Other writey stuff: I'm thinking of trying NaNoWriMo next month. This is my carrot (or is it the stick?) for finishing the second draft of Willow Knot this month and getting it to betas. Which reminds me I should confirm who still wants to beta it, considering that it's getting up to 110k (ah, the heady days when I groaned about it reaching 90k, dear dead days that they were when I was young).
So. If I don't finish the second draft, which includes cleaning up the new material enough that I'm not consumed with embarrassment about someone else seeing it, by the end of October, I can't do NaNo. So swear I.
But if I do get that done, I can play NaNo for the month of not looking at Willow Knot and getting fresh eyes.
This weekend I got the 'queen comes back from the dead' scene written, and revised the confrontation between Myl and one of her ladies-in-waiting. The lady has fallen ill and whispers are going around that she's been bewitched, and what did happen to Myl's brother anyways, hm?
I was aiming for drama, but. The chief lady-in-waiting, Havoisie, who's otherwise a bit of a self-important figure of fun, asked the stricken one just what was wrong with her. On hearing the list of symptoms, she sniffed and said 'You're not bewitched, you're with child. And if you think the queen had aught to do with that, your mother shouldn't have let you out alone.'
So Myl doesn't get a big dramatic moment. Sigh. But this may be better.

Next weekend I'll be at VCon, the Vancouver Science Fiction Convention, guest of honour Peter Beagle.
I hope I can get the subplot about the Lusantia refugees and the guilds all tucked in by then.

Viable Paradise, day zero

Saturday night, airport. Today was the workshop and the Barbara Hambly reading. Then off to the airport in a rush so that I can wait for hours. During which time my laptop battery will run out, but I'll probably want to nap anyways.

Hambly reading was good--she reads very much the way M-- does. The reading was from her new book, Renfield. Some icky and harsh elements, handled effectively (would I expect anything else?) More bad news about books: she has a 3d TWHTN/TWTD book, but unless Renfield sells well, it won't go to press. Benjamin January series is on hiatus. No immediate big historicals. She asked an editor what they were specifically looking for, and was told 'Buffy knock-offs' so she's written one called Spider Season, with a 20ish kick-ass heroine, first-person, whose voice is completely new to her and whom she's enjoying tremendously. Afterwards I went off to buy a copy of Renfield as my contribution to her continuing career. Daniel, I think, was going to all the panels with B Hambly in them, and possibly to no others.

Writing workshop, a bit hard to find until I spotted (Mighty Hunter!) a neon-pink one-sheet with an arrow and the room and elevator number. I'm not a huge fan of buildings that have to number their elevators because not all of them go to all floors (there's a joke there, but never mind.)
The dragon story went first, then the spy/assassin one, then me, then the cats.
Mine and the cats (Randy) got the most positive responses. Everyone liked it, but no one much liked the pronoun thing with the Cupbearer, so we had some discussion about how to handle a double-gendered character, which didn't come up with anything brilliant, but at least no one wanted me to change him/her.
There was also some question as to who the story was about, and Randy suggested that to have the story be about Valen, the last scene could go, and we'd just see how the downfall of the gods was laid. One had a problem keeping track of the gods (you'd think giving them function-names would make it easier, but maybe not) and two kept trying to match them up with the Greek gods (though only one found it distracting from the story) but a very interesting suggestion was made that they be made less clearly like the Greco-Roman gods and more exotic/generic right off, especially changing the Messenger. I'm thinking that in the context of the story he might as well be named the Meddler. He could still have wings. Valen was not seen as passive, which was one of my fears. There were mixed feelings about having him lose--suggestions about him winning somehow--but I suspect that was more because of people liking him and not wanting him to go down than a real need for restructuring.
The discussion for the others was useful in some ways. My crits seemed to hit many of the same (though not all) points that the others did. The assassin title was about Maslow's hierarchy of needs, so I was right, there. And everyone thought the dragon story needed trimming, but that the dragon-sorceresses themselves were cool.
One of the pros (De Muelemeester) asked to be remembered to Emily Mah Tippetts, and the author of the spy story sent greetings to Jim Macdonald and Debra Doyle, being a previous VP alumna.

Mark and I went for dinner with Devon and Betty and a couple of other people, at the hotel's pub. Food was okay, not particularly memorable. Mark and Devon and Betty shared gossip about swordsmen and dancers (more intersection than I would have guessed) which was entertaining.
Mark drove me to the airport, taking the route recommended by one of the hotel staff. My usual fussing over lateness for anything that will leave without me kicked in, and I charged into the airport with my bags draped most untidily over me. Not that it mattered, since I had to haul out the laptop etc. and repack anyways.
And here I am. Usually I prepare myself by imagining situations and what I might do to cope with them, but I don't seem able to do that for VP. Not even scenarios where I am stunningly brilliant and impress everyone in a Mary-Suvian fashion. Come to think of it, I've never been good at those anyways.

Viable Paradise diary, day minus one

Just a reminder that this diary is not current. It relates events from early October, at the Viable Paradise workshop. For the sake of immediacy, I have done little editing.

Friday night. Back at Kate's with everyone else, everyone being Kate, Mac, Daniel and Mark. The Master Classes were overall good. I bussed out to the Executive Airport Plaza Hotel (is a more generic name possible?) with the help of helpful bus drivers (my usual means of transport being helpful people) and got to the hotel way too early--which was okay. After chatting with a remarkably boring oldtime VConner, I followed people I recognised (who seemed to recognise me) to Hospitality where I discovered that my name-tag etc. were among the 9 not-yet-arrived nametags etc. So I made myself useful as directed, making coffee with a coffeemaker I wasn't familiar with (Bodums are so simple, but don't hold nearly as much) and was saved from making Turkish-level coffee by kind advice about how to gauge the amount in the filter. Also set up a garbage bag pro-tem.
I spotted Alma Alexander, who looks just like her programme photo, but not Barbara Hambly, who has cut her hair since the programme picture. She is small, perhaps a little shorter than me and thinner, rather bird-like, with a pointed nose and bright searching eyes. Her hair stands out in frizzy curls. I didn't see Serena arrive, and my attempt to hold a chair for her failed, though we did connect at the break.
Hambly gave the keynote lecture, which was to prepare yourself for not making a lot of money. She's going back into college teaching, because she has neither a day-job nor a spouse to support her. Writing has its rewards, but easy cash is not one of them. Writing, communicating an idea or experience, is a great joy, and find that joy, which will sustain you.
Matt Hughes talked about scenes, and how each scene has a purpose, how it advances the story. First he discussed the difference between narrative (telling) and showing by means of scenes--including close pov, sensory detail, time dilation, emotional responses. He gave out two examples of the same piece of action, one as half-page narrative, the other as three-page scene-showing. I was irresistably reminded of the foreword to Varney the Vampire where the writer turns a three-line action into a full instalment of the serial by stuffing it full of adjectives and description. Gene, the fellow sitting next to me, rather missed the point by saying that he didn't think much of either excerpt. And since Gene is deaf-ish and speaks with a booming voice, his whisper wasn't much of a whisper. It's very clear that Hughes was a professional speech-writer; his talk was organised and clear. He's a big, broad guy with short white hair, you'd think of him as perhaps a pro golfer, not 'the literary heir to Jack Vance' an attribution he's proud of. The story of his that I read in F&SF is definitely Vancean.
Barbara Hambly discussed setting, the setting as a character, the setting as determining character and determining actions. The novel of Stagecoach was used as an example - the setting of a stagecoach in that time and place constrains what is possible for the characters in that setting. Amusing anecdote about writing Travelling With the Dead - she wrote a gripping scene of flight and pursuit through the alleys of Vienna, but on visiting, discovered that Vienna has no alleys. And thanked god that the mss hadn't been delivered yet. Advocate of visiting the scene. Gave us a writing exercise: a superior of some sort sitting down, a subordinate enters and says they have a problem, superior says don't tell me it's and subordinate says, no, it's worse, it's . Within this frame, the setting should become clear. Those who could not think of settings could have random cards with places and dates. I figured a Victorian kitchen parlour and the housekeeper and a scullery-maid. Mine was not one of those read out; for some reason the first choices were a run of ships of various kinds, but one was set in Hell and quite funny. Serena's was set in a frontier brothel (random card) and was quite good, lovely sweaty sensory detail. I think she should develop it into a story.
Alma Alexander's talk was on character, and wasn't as clear or organised as the others. She also seems a bit tightly wound. I don't know that I'd want to take a course from her (don't know if she does teach). I didn't have trouble hearing her, but others did. She's a character-channeler, and believes in talking to them and bringing them out gently. I guess that's where I am, since I don't do the character-sheets except for fun, but it felt kind of woo-woo. Oh yeah, and story arises from character, which is kind of true. Another writing exercise, this one to write a series of questions you might ask your character, five vital and five general, then to swap those questions with someone else. The idea being to explore aspects of your character that you wouldn't normally consider. It worked well enough for me, but I gather some people were very specific about the general questions, making them inapplicable to random fantasy characters.
Hung out with Serena during the lunch break, and caught up. I told her about the hard-drive wierdness, and everything converting to rtfs and she said she could send hers again, so I may get her to do that after I get a new hard-drive. And reinstall Word. Gah. She's doing pretty well, sharing a room with the Walshes for the con, and asked me to come to the Hobbit Country Dance workshop on Saturday. Apparently I haven't sent her any of my stuff since 'Spellcheck', so I'll deal with that when I get back, if the computer's working.
We were fed a self-assemble burrito, tea and coffee, all reasonably okay, and the afternoon break was chocolate, though I didn't have any. I spoke to Barbara Hambly and told her of Anne's wish to kiss her feet, and that I metaphorically kissed her feet for Anne. She was pleased and said to thank her. Accidentally got my picture taken with Matt Hughes and said I'd enjoyed his story in F&SF, and we talked about the Vancean stuff. He's got a bad back since a car accident some time ago, and was on muscle relaxants. Serena took my picture with Barbara Hambly. Serena also chatted with Barbara about chronic fatigue, which Hambly may have, and some things (food avoidances etc) Serena has found useful for dealing with it, and took Hambly's email for sending info to.
Went for a drink with Serena after the classes, our brains being full, and talked about writing. She bought me an Irish coffee (I'm broke until I hit the States) and had soup, and we yattered until Mark and Daniel showed up, followed (after Mark parked the van) by MC. I split dinner with Mark and MC, which was just as well, as there was just too much food. The service was kind of inefficient--I don't think the server spoke much English.
Back to Kate's fairly early, so that we can make decent time tomorrow morning.
Hobbit Country Dance tomorrow, and the Clarion-style workshop. First time critting in person. Oh, ran into Randy (who wrote the talking cats story) at the Master Classes, and he said mine was the one he most enjoyed of the workshop stories, which was nice because reciprocal. I liked his best.

Viable Paradise diary, day minus two

NOTE: This is a diary that was kept from Oct 5-14/06, here first made public. It is not happening in this present now.

Viable Paradise diary.
or: my writing sucks! in ways that can be fixed!

Thursday night. I'm on the ferry to Vancouver, having been rushed off by Mark with pizza still in my mouth and my wine poured into a travel mug. I have the following:
1 small sports bag, containing clothes, toiletries, snacks, books, etc. for VP
1 laptop bag, containing laptop, backup diskets, books & itinerary
1 large tote, containing clothes, books, mss. etc. for Master Classes & workshop
1 backpack, containing my usual backpack stuff - this all to be repacked or left.
1 shopping bag, containing frozen muffins, cookies and a piece of chocolate cake (described as 'brownie-like, too dry' by those who've had some).
I hope Mark remembers to bring my other shoes, as well as the sandwich fixings. If I could get down to Chinatown and pick up some pork buns that would be great, but it doesn't seem likely. However, the hotel is near the airport, so I shall be properly grateful for that.

I didn't say a virtual goodbye to the ABE furtive scribblers. Perhaps I'll be able to go online and catch up sometime in this week. Kate's internet access sounds a bit dicey, and I know the Inn's access is questionable. So we'll see.
Not so worried about saying goodbye on AW, since a fair chunk of it will be at VP. Not Aconite, but she's not on AW either. Alas. But I'll keep what records I can for those who can't attend.

Paul dropped by to catch me with a goodbye and good wishes. I am to tell PNH and TNH that he is not really a dogmatic Foucault-freak. (This in reference to a thread on Making Light which I haven't read). I thanked him for making VP possible, which is quite true. I never would have applied, if the travel costs hadn't been taken care of. I wish he were coming. Partly because seeing him and PNH butt heads could be marvelously entertaining.
On one level I understand that when he can make thousands for writing code, there's not a huge incentive to write fiction that at most would be a few hundred. And Paul is very practical--hard-headed Frenchman. But I have to wonder if there isn't some fear of success, because if he turned out to be good at it, wouldn't he have to do something with that talent?
M-- dropped off an envelope which I'm to open on the plane. The subject of the Master Classes has been carefully not mentioned between us since I first sent her the info (and one update) to which she didn't reply. I suppose she's protecting herself from information again - she can mention VP because there's no suggestion that she would want to apply, since it's far away, expensive, and genre-specific. But the Master Classes, which are nearby, inexpensive, and taught (in part) by someone she claims to venerate--harder to excuse herself from attending. I sent her the programming and autograph session schedule, and she didn't reply to that, either, which feels to me like her avoidance behaviour. Again I have to wonder about fear of success--one can hardly fail during a series of lectures, after all. Is she afraid of taking her writing seriously enough to try to improve it? Is she lumping all workshops and classes into the category of I--'s dysfunctional writers' group?
For me, I'm feeling that this is what I need. I've said/written to a couple of people that I feel becalmed, or plateaued. I can put my work up on AW or OWW, and I do get some useful crits, but it's almost all tweaking. Cathy's questions are the most useful, really (doesn't anybody wonder about the propriety of Tom and Nan?) pushing me to fill in aspects I'd brushed aside. I should tell her that when I'm online again. Leo's also been good, pointing out when I labour a point. (Has he posted recently? I haven't looked.) But I feel that much of the rest is what I could do myself--am doing myself, now that I have practice.
I'm at the point where I'm not obviously doing things wrong. On the face it's okay. But sometimes I wonder if it's not facile, an unthinking facility with language masking an emptiness at the heart. How do I tell?
I want the next level. I'm not ready for the last boss yet. But I bet the boss of this level is really wimpy.

So, this is what lies ahead:
1 day of lectures by Barbara Hambly, Matt Hughes and Alma Alexander, including two assignments.
1 three-hour workshop with Rhea Rose, Linda DeMeulemeester and three other students.
9 hours on a plane, about 3 hours on bus and ferry
5 days of lectures, crit groups and exercises with Patrick Nielsen Hayden, Teresa Nielsen Hayden, James Macdonald, Debra Doyle, Stephen Gould, Laura Mixon and Cory Doctorow
3 hrs on bus&ferry, 9 hrs on a plane
1 day of collapse
Return to normality. Or normalcy. I'm not sure what the difference is.

I really really want a one-on-one with TNH, though reason tells me that this is my inner fangirl coming to the fore. She does line-crit, and I think my copy is pretty clean on that level. My shortcomings are more likely to be big-picture, as well as invisible to me. Of course, it's possible that I'll be in need of reassurance that I can do something right, after a few days of having my work pulled apart. On the other hand, it would be very useful to get the opinion of someone at a professional editing level whether my own line-editing is satisfactory. It's one thing to know I'm not making egregious errors. It's another to know whether I'm doing well.
Must remember how important it is to go into a judging session with the right attitude. The judges are here to help me. They want me to improve and to continue to improve. My work is not perfect, and if I don't learn to see where it falls short, it won't ever become perfect. Not everything I hear will be helpful, but if even half of it is (and I would expect more than a 50% rate from the pros) I will have guidance that I didn't have before.
Remember the story of the cup of tea. If I don't empty my cup first, how can I taste the master's tea? This is particularly relevant since I've picked up the Frey book How to Write Damn Good Fiction, because I'm going to be tempted to relate everything to his lessons. I suspect that many of the same principles will be involved, in slightly different words.

More later.