More from ICFA
When we left our heroine, she was feeling sick and going to bed. After a good night's sleep, she felt ready to return to her usual daytime activity (conquering the world). Well, almost ready. Her eyes still felt tired. But she knew there was a reading at 10:30 a.m. with Jeff Ford, Richard Butner, and Connie Willis, and she did not want to miss it.
Here is our heroine, feeling sick last night, and up and about this morning:
Why, oh why, do I post photographs of myself on this blog, when about half the time they show me in states of disrepair? With green goop on my face, or first thing in the morning before I've even showered? It's partly because when I read someone's blog, I like knowing what that person looks like. There is something disturbing about not seeing someone's face. It's as though you're not quite sure whom you're talking to. The other reason comes, believe it or not, from Oprah and her ilk, women who have their own magazines and are always on the covers. Now, I am not Oprah, nor was meant to be, but there's something important, I think, in making that gesture. It's easy to dismiss as self-aggrandizement, but I don't think that's what it is. Rather, it's a way of taking responsibility. It's a way of saying, this is my magazine, and I am responsible for its contents. And this is the way I look, on good days and on bad days. (Of course, I have a lot more bad days, and significantly fewer makeup artists, than Oprah.)
Having written that, I do not actually walk through conventions as though I'm posing for magazine covers, so here are some more realistic pictures of me from this morning. Sitting in Hotel Room Dora, and Going Downstairs to the Convention Dora. No, I don't know what happened to my eyes. Pollen?
Our intrepid heroine bought her yogurt and made her reading. Here are Sydney Duncan making introductions and Jeff Ford directly after his reading, sitting in the audience next to John Kessel:
And here are Richard Butner and Connie Willis reading:
And here are Richard, Connie, and Jeff answering questions. What an enthusiastic audience (Cecilia Holland, Barbara Gilly, Christopher Rowe, and Gwenda Bond)!
After the reading, we all went out to the pool for the Locus photograph, which will be in the next Locus, and then I went to meet Karen Burnham, Eileen Gunn, Paul Park, and Cecelia Holland. We went upstairs and participated in a Locus podcast, which should be available in about a week. (I'll link to it, of course.) By that point, I was starving about a quarter of the way to death (well, I don't want to exaggerate too much), so I bought a sandwich and went out to eat on the dock by the lake.
There, I met my lizard friend. Afterward, our heroine was particularly intrepid and went upstairs to put on her swimsuit, despite the fact that she does not remember the last time she exercised (but it's been weeks) and she feels as though she is in terrible shape. Nevertheless, she went to the pool (which you see here through the palm trees) and swam with the Dell/Alpha contingent. (To the male friend who asked if she was going to post a picture of herself in her swimsuit, she says, "You're joking, right?")
And that's it for now. The reason I'm posting early today is that later tonight there will be a banquet, and everyone will be dressed up, and I want to get pictures of all the dresses. And I'll be posting those separately. I figure, conventions and conferences need fashion photographers too. Officially, Locus fills that role. But why can't I be one of those fashion bloggers – for the science fiction and fantasy community? After all, not all of us dress like Princess Leia. (Yes, I mean the Jabba the Hut scene, and no, I'm not dressing like that. And yes, this comment is meant for the same male friend who asked about the swimsuit. Seriously, dude.) We're fashionable too, as you'll see later. In an individualistic and sometimes nerdy sort of way. (Nerdy being one of my highest compliments.)
That's all I have for now. Our heroine is tired and will probably lie down for a while. After all, she anticipates being up until – well, tomorrow, actually.
Signing off,
