I faced some true horror yesterday evening when I arrived at the World Horror Convention—because though I had made it all the way to Salt Lake City, my suit had not. And unfortunately, I couldn’t blame the airline, only myself.

As I emptied my suitcase, I discovered that though I had packed my suit pants, the matching jacket that went with them was still at home. I have no idea how I managed to do that, but that initial discovery upon arrival didn’t seem like a good omen to me for Saturday night’s banquet, at which I’d hoped to look spiffy whether I won a Stoker Award or not.

So my question for the blogosphere this morning is—do I just try to pass in black slacks, my black leather jacket, and my skeletal Nightmare Before Christmas tie? Or do I run out this morning to the local Men’s Warehouse and buy myself a new suit? Suggestions, please! Oh, the horror!

Other than that, I had fun Thursday night. That’s Gene O’Neill, old pal and Clarion comrade from the class of 1979 in the photo above. (I’ve started loading other photos to my Flickr account here.) Since we live on opposite coasts, Gene and I don’t get to see each other as often as we’d like, so we’ll have a lot of catching up to do this weekend.

I went to two panels, one as an audience member, the other as a participant. I went to the 8:00 p.m. panel “Working with Editors: How to have a good working relationship between writers and editors,” during which moderator Erin Galloway wrangled R. J. Cavender, Don D’Auria, Norman Prentiss, and Dan Naden. Though I know panels like that are usually aimed at beginners, I enjoy hearing the differences of opinion too much whether I learn anything new or not, and will probably be going to them for as long as I keep going to cons.

Then at 10:00 p.m., I took part in the panel “Why editors reject a story: What basic things does a writer need to know to keep from being rejected on the first page?” along with R. J. Cavender, Don D’Auria, Norman Prentiss, and Scott Standridge. Since our moderator never showed, I jumped into that role. I think I moderate well, but I don’t necessarily like it, because when I moderate, I’m so careful to make sure all participants get a chance to speak equally that I speak less myself, choosing instead to poke and prod at the other panelists. I think we managed to both educate and entertain, but I ended up not telling my favorite Winston Churchill anecdote because I didn’t want to monopolize the microphone.

Anyway, a new day of the dead dawns, and I’ll off to shower, dress, and throw myself out into the con (in that order) and to ponder the question—new suit or not?