You know, it’d probably make for a better con report if I reported a bit closer to the con.
WisCon was fantastic. The workshop went very well, the tarot readings were, for the most part, useful or entertaining, and the panel did a good job of discussing different styles of writing groups. As usual, the best parts were the unscheduled ones: conversations in the hall, teasing out plot ideas over cheese curds and bread on the Capitol lawn, discovering bacon gelato (BACON GELATO!!!) with friends, finding the strangest accessory at the clothing swap and then attempting to wear it for karaoke (about which I will say no more, and dear Lord I hope there aren’t pictures) and a couple of those moments when the world suddenly shrinks. Strange and wonderful, and overall just what I’ve come to expect at WisCon.
For some reason, I felt a little more at ease this year. It was as if I didn’t have to act like a writer (and yeah, I know there’s an awful lot of assumptions packed into those four words), because I was too busy being one. There’s probably some sort of Zen lesson to be found in that, but in practice it meant that by the time I came home — off a 6 AM flight on Monday, and nothing makes a flight go faster than zonking out before we leave the ground — I didn’t crash, I didn’t have my usual few hours of wondering whether I did something stupid (answer: yes, but stupid and awesome are not mutually exclusive), and I got to enjoy a beautiful, bright Memorial Day. And I was back in time to see my youngest sister kick ass on Jeopardy.
Now back to copyedits, hammering out a synopsis, and figuring out which short story should go where next.