NoirCon Report: Part 1

NoirCon is like a gay bar. You never get that awkward moment in a conversation where the other person says something like, "I don't read authors that use the f-word." You know walking in the door that everyone in the room is into the same thing.

Actually getting to Philly this year was a bit of an adventure. I was originally supposed to arrive on Wednesday night. I didn't get in until around 2am Friday morning. Which wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't have a 9am panel. That's 9am East Coast time. Which means 6am inside my West Coast head. Who the hell plans a porn panel at 9am? Typical men, always wanting sex first thing in the morning.

On this trip, I was accompanied by my intrepid canine sidekick Butch, so we were not allowed to stay at the dog-hating Doubletree Hotel with all the other kids. We wound up at the Sofitel Philadelphia a few blocks away. Fantastic, classy, super dog-friendly joint. Highly recommended.

The nice lady who checked me in told me the Society Hill Playhouse was only a 5 or 10 minute cab ride away. Maybe at 2am, but not during morning rush hour. As a result I was nearly 10 minutes late for my panel. I'm never late. Especially not to an event in which I'm an active participant. I blame Russel McLean. So what if he was a thousand miles away at the time? It was clearly his fault.

Having brought shame on my ancestors and ready to commit Seppuku, I finally arrived at the venue. I threw money at the unflappable African cabbie and Butch and I tore ass into the theater. I'm told we made quite an entrance.

The panel, Pornography and Noir, was a blast. Great questions, great debate. I'm amazed that I was able to make any sense at all. I'm afraid I did get a little snappish with one guy who suggested that all underage girls are ruined by sex with an older man and all underaged boys are improved by sex with an older woman. Tell that to the kid who's older lover convinced him to murder her husband. Or the young woman who seduced her male teacher and then used the threat of a statutory rape charge to extort unearned As. Plus I hate that hoary old conceit that men of any age are the perpetrators of all sexual acts and women their victims. The truth is that any person can take advantage of any other person under the right circumstances. Understand, I'm not talking about child molesting here. I'm talking about one person who is, say, 16 and another who's 30. Anyway, that panel was the most fun I've ever had at 6am.

At that point the jetlag had kicked in hard and I had no choice but to tap out for a few hours. I've never been into naps. For me, it's usually 8 hours or nothing. But in this case, I knew I was gonna fall on my face if I didn't try to catch up on my Zs.

After a quick power nap and an excellent roomservice lunch with Butch, I was back on my feet and ready to rumble. I took a leisurely stroll through Philly, caught the last panel of the day and then headed over to the awards dinner.

I sat next to Scott Phillips. Apolgies to our dining neighbors. Really it was my fault. I was the one who brought up the Human Turducken.

After the chow and the awards, I was approached by Neil Anthony Smith with an idea for the next Plots With Guns. He was doing a series of photos in which established authors murder up-and-coming whippersnappers. He'd just shot Reed Coleman slashing Seth Harwood's throat with a steak knife and wanted to know if I'd be willing to wack Cameron Ashley. How could I refuse? When asked to choose the method of Cam's demise, I chose to choke him out. With my thighs. The resulting photo is a thing of beauty, but unfortunately you'll have to wait until January to see it.

Meanwhile, here's a not-nearly-as-awesome photo of me and Butch with Goodis Award recipient George Pelecanos to tide you over.