TitanCon: A Wholly Impartial Review
Name Drops Keep Falling on My Head
The crazy beast that is TitanCon, has, after four days, found me indigestible and spat me out again. Away from the gentle acids of its tummy, my disorientation is total. Did I really have dinner with a pack of superstars such as Pat Cadigan, Adrian Tchaikovsky, D.J. McCune, Ian McDonald, Elio Garcia, Mutha Hydra? Did I learn to play conspiracy games with the brilliant volunteers of the con? I think I must have. Those memories have a gentle glow about them, whereas others, such as some kind of quiz related wardrobe failure, are made of the very stuff of nightmare.
There Started a Beginning
As always, events kicked off with an author reading in front of a kind audience, gently sliding towards a state of happy inebriation. Afterwards, art was committed, and the first of the many, many conversations that make this particular con so special.
Day followed night. More guests appeared. I was privileged to be allowed torment a variety of VIPs, including authors such as Ken Gregory and Laurence Donaghy, as well as some excellent acting talent from the GoT TV series, including Aimee Richardson, Kerry Ingram, Eugene Simon and the very bearded Ian Beattie.
Later in the day, Elio Garcia, one of the co-writers for the imminent and beautiful The World of Ice and Fire, allowed himself to be poked, prodded and quizzed about the book and his contributions to it.
There Came More Stuff
You know the general gist of the rest. Food in good company. A... a quiz with a dazzlingly beautiful assistant. More glorious conversations. Free hugs, and not just from Pebbles! A karaoke of epic awesomeness with genteel waltzing couples crazy dancing. A morning that felt like death.
And Still More
Sunday was the bus tour and dire wolves and castles and feasting and coach singing. Yes, it was magnificent. Night-time was all about games I had never heard of and obscene songs gleefully translated into everything from Gadhlig to Klingon. And yes, I do know the Welsh word for "sausage", which turned out to be disturbingly useful.
Please don't ask.
And it Ends. All of it.
Monday did its usual fun-murdering. The remainders gathered for breakfast and leavetaking at the Wellington Park Hotel. Our bodies didn't have enough fluids left for tears. We squeezed in a few more chats, practiced our hugging some more and laid bets as to who would be first to come down with con crud over the next few days.
We've had a few years of TitanCon now, and every year, I slowly get to know the crew that little bit better, while new people turn up at the edges oozing brilliance and enthusiasm. It's always a sweet experience, but year by year, my affection for it, and those who run it, only grows stronger.
With that in mind, I want to give a special thanks, as always to Phil Lowles, who is head honcho, and yet, everybody's slave. May he toil forever!
The crazy beast that is TitanCon, has, after four days, found me indigestible and spat me out again. Away from the gentle acids of its tummy, my disorientation is total. Did I really have dinner with a pack of superstars such as Pat Cadigan, Adrian Tchaikovsky, D.J. McCune, Ian McDonald, Elio Garcia, Mutha Hydra? Did I learn to play conspiracy games with the brilliant volunteers of the con? I think I must have. Those memories have a gentle glow about them, whereas others, such as some kind of quiz related wardrobe failure, are made of the very stuff of nightmare.
There Started a Beginning
As always, events kicked off with an author reading in front of a kind audience, gently sliding towards a state of happy inebriation. Afterwards, art was committed, and the first of the many, many conversations that make this particular con so special.
Day followed night. More guests appeared. I was privileged to be allowed torment a variety of VIPs, including authors such as Ken Gregory and Laurence Donaghy, as well as some excellent acting talent from the GoT TV series, including Aimee Richardson, Kerry Ingram, Eugene Simon and the very bearded Ian Beattie.
Later in the day, Elio Garcia, one of the co-writers for the imminent and beautiful The World of Ice and Fire, allowed himself to be poked, prodded and quizzed about the book and his contributions to it.
There Came More Stuff
You know the general gist of the rest. Food in good company. A... a quiz with a dazzlingly beautiful assistant. More glorious conversations. Free hugs, and not just from Pebbles! A karaoke of epic awesomeness with genteel waltzing couples crazy dancing. A morning that felt like death.
And Still More
Sunday was the bus tour and dire wolves and castles and feasting and coach singing. Yes, it was magnificent. Night-time was all about games I had never heard of and obscene songs gleefully translated into everything from Gadhlig to Klingon. And yes, I do know the Welsh word for "sausage", which turned out to be disturbingly useful.
Please don't ask.
And it Ends. All of it.
Monday did its usual fun-murdering. The remainders gathered for breakfast and leavetaking at the Wellington Park Hotel. Our bodies didn't have enough fluids left for tears. We squeezed in a few more chats, practiced our hugging some more and laid bets as to who would be first to come down with con crud over the next few days.
We've had a few years of TitanCon now, and every year, I slowly get to know the crew that little bit better, while new people turn up at the edges oozing brilliance and enthusiasm. It's always a sweet experience, but year by year, my affection for it, and those who run it, only grows stronger.
With that in mind, I want to give a special thanks, as always to Phil Lowles, who is head honcho, and yet, everybody's slave. May he toil forever!
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