Tuesday, November 23, 2010

In Which They Let Me Out Of My Cage - Loscon 37

Thanksgiving. A time for gorging and puking in a vast orgy of consumption just like our Roman forefathers intended. Shrieking wordlessly in terror as a giant Justin Bieber floats down Central Park West on its way to consume the citizens of New York, tossing hapless passersby into its puffy, bloody maw. And then the gladiatorial combat as packs of wild barbarians murder each other with their bare hands all in a desperate bid to possess that most elusive of treasures, the inflated pig's bladder.

But what about the day after? There's only so much yakking into a porcelain lined vessel one can do. At some point it gets a little dull. The party's over, the inflated gods of pop culture recede back into their year-long slumber, the woodland fowl once more finding a respite from the ravages of religious outcasts.

Well, if you're in L.A. and you're a geek (the sitting around wondering in what positions Vulcans do it during Pon-farr, not the bite the heads off chickens kind... though I suppose there's a Venn Diagram in there somewhere) come on out to the LAX Marriott to Loscon 37 and hang out with your fellow basement dwellers and see FREAKS LIKE ME!

No, really. Making an ass of myself. A skill I've spent many years honing to a fine broken glass-like edge.

I'll be up there. In front of people. TALKING. Muttering and gibbering more like. How the fuck did that happen?

Marvel! As I speak on things I know nothing about!

Cower! As I match wits with people smarter than I!

Metabolize! As you digest the vapidity of my autistic speaking patterns!

Friday at 7:30 p.m. - Horror Tropes as Social Commentary
Godzilla was about the horrors of the atom bomb. Zombie movies have commented on robotic consumerism. Vampirism has been used as a metaphor for AIDS. Let's take a look at the messages that writers and directors have slipped in between the chills and gore.

It'll be me, the lovely and talented Maria Alexander and a bunch of people I don't know, yet: Cody Goodfellow, Allison Lonsdale, Tadao Tomomatsu.

Got suggestions? I got a list here, somewhere. And five bucks to the first person who correctly guesses the time it takes for somebody to bring up zombies.

Saturday 10:00 a.m. – The Fine Art of Writing Short Stories
Everybody believes they can write a short story. But writing a good one, worthy of publication in an anthology or magazine is a craft of its own. Get tips on the best way to use an economy of words to tell a compelling story of any size.

I'll be giving WRITING ADVICE. Yeah, me. HA! There's a good idea.

"Use words. Lots of 'em. And exclamation points. Oh, and fanfic. Lots of fanfic. Editors eat that shit up. And if they don't, write them back and call them dipshits. Because, you know, none of them ever talk to each other. And mention that reading you did at Borders for your writing class."

Thank god there are real writers on the panel. Will Morton, Larry Niven, Laura Frankos, and Juliette Wade

Saturday 4:00 p.m. – A jury of peers - When to join a critique group.
Congrats! You've finished your story. Ready to have someone else read it? How about joining a Critique Group? Learn the benefits and pitfalls from those who have been through it all.

Oh, the headiness of a writing group. The blind leading the blind, the people who "just don't get it", the ones who think your story of love and loss and a young woman's sexual awakening would do much better if you set it in the context of a pre-Roman agrarian society invaded by space aliens.

Come to think of it, I'd read that.

Anyway, I will be joined into the collective hive mind of Ace Hall, Sarah Beach, James C. Glass, and Laurie Tom.

So come on down and make fun of my mental infirmities. But don't just come for that, like you would, anyway.

Instead experience the Steampunk wonders and bar-raising (as opposed to barn raising) intellects of guests of honor Phil Foglio and Emma Bull.

Either way, I'll be spending most of my time drunk in the bar.


John Hornor said...

Check out Phil Foglio's XXXenophile. Fun stuff.

Wish I was gonna be there to listen to the Blackmoore blather.

Chris said...

Sounds like a blast. You left-coast folk get all the fun. (Or is that smog? I always get the two confused.)

Break a leg, man. Preferably someone else's.