Sunday morning at Ad Astra started off with me writing here about my Saturday at Ad Astra, after which I quickly checked out of my room and headed to my panel on “Why Professionalism Matters,” which was tangentially related to my Friday panel on “Using Conventions to Your Advantage.” Both were primarily concerned with not doing shooting yourself in the foot during faanish and professional interactions.

Something said by one of the co-panelists, Howard Tayler, creator of Schlock Mercenary, sparked an anecdote that hadn’t even occurred to me until he started talking about comics, and that is—professionalism matters because it allows not-quite-that-talented, yet professionally behaving creators to find work out of the disasters created by the far-more-talented, yet not as reliable creators. And I shared how I got to pick up such crumbs, getting to write issues of Master of Kung Fu and Omega the Unknown not because I was supremely qualified to do so, but because the editors knew I would deliver on time and cause fewer headaches.

Next up for me was my shared reading with Matthew Johnson. He read “Holdfast,” which had been published in Fantasy magazine, and I read “The Only Wish Ever to Come True,” which had appeared in Talebones. I’ll share videos of those two readings with you soon.

There wasn’t much time between my reading and the next event I wanted to see, an hour shared between Derwin Mak and Robert Shearman. Since I’d been warned by Glenn Grant that the lobby restaurant was slow, I headed to the basement buffet so I could grab something quick. I found Derwin there, and we ate together, catching up until it was time for his reading. (BTW, I was very pleased to learn from him that there’ll be lots of Chinese restaurants within walking distance of the World Fantasy 2012 hotel.)

Then it was off to the shared reading. I recorded Derwin with my Flip, only to have the battery give out halfway through his performance. It was only when Robert Shearman readied himself that I remembered I could also record with my iPhone. I wasn’t happy with how my iPhone had performed when recording a panel,= during the Australia Worldcon, but I thought it might work for a single speaker. And it did.

I absolutely adored Robert’s story, “One Last Love Song.” How much did I love it? So much that I’m sharing it with you even before I’m sharing video of my OWN reading! The story is from his collection Love Songs for the Shy and Cynical, and I’m sure that after you hear him read, you’ll want to buy it. (For some reason, something strange happened to first few seconds of the clip, but don’t worry—that passes before the actual story begins.)

Once the reading ended, I bought a copy of Robert’s book (as you will also do now, of course), and chatted with him as long as I could spare until it was time to get my luggage from the concierge and head to the airport with Eric Flint. Along the way, Eric and I discussed our encounters with the elder gods of science fiction, and I remembered the early conventions at which I got autographs from Arthur C. Clarke and Ted Sturgeon and Poul Anderson and Gordie Dickson—and others—all on the same day.

My final Ad Astra encounter of the day turned out to come in an unexpected place—at the border. When I explained why I’d been in the country, and mentioned science fiction, my customs agent told me all about the closing of Silver Snail Comics. I’d found a fellow fan of sorts, which helped me pass through a little more smoothly.

And that was that for Ad Astra. Which means I can now start thinking about the World Horror Convention, only 2 1/2 weeks away!

On April 10 at Ad Astra 2011, I read my short story “The Only Wish Ever to Come True,” which had originally been published in Talebones magazine. I shared the hour with Matthew Johnson, seen sitting next to me, waiting his turn to read.

Yesterday began here in Toronto with scavenging breakfast in the well-appointed Ad Astra Green Room. Who doesn’t want to start the day with homemade scones? Then, after schmoozing for awhile with the usual gang of idiots friends, it was off to my first program item of the day—my shared Guest of Honor interview with Kathryn Cramer.

Kathryn had been a Guest of Honor in 1996, and I’d been one in 2000, and since there were so many of us there—this being the 30th Ad Astra, the committee attempted to get as many possible previous GOHs to return as possible—we were paired up in twos and threes and asked to interview each other. Kathryn and I have known each other for so long I no longer remember how long, so it was a pleasant hour chatting.

I recorded the full hour, and may someday, when I’m not living on con brain, post longer selections from it, but meanwhile, here’s a taste—a few minutes during which I explain why I chose to pursue writing over acting, when at one time I was equally involved in both.

As soon as our talk ended, I rushed off to my noon panel on the TV series The Walking Dead, which proved to be livelier than expected, as the panelists had extremely different reactions to the show. For example, our moderator, Colleen Hillerup, hates zombies but loves the show anyway because of the people and the series’ soap opera aspects, while co-panelist Mandy Slater loves zombies (she’d better, considering we’re in the book Zombie Apocalypse together), but is irritated by the people, and jokingly calls the show The Talking Dead because there’s more yammering than zombies. Meanwhile, Ian Keeling and I occupied the middle ground and stayed in less controversial territory. (more…)

Ad Astra 2011 was so overflowing with Guests of Honor (since it was the con’s 30th year, the committee attempted to bring back every previous Guest of Honor) that rather than have us give Guest of Honor speeches or be interviewed individually, the con doubled (and sometimes tripled) us up for low-key chats. Here’s Kathryn Cramer and I rambling on for what’s hopefully an entertaining hour.

(And please forgive the ambient noise seeping through from the hallway. It took awhile before an audience member thought to shut the doors. But I think you’ll be able to understand us throughout anyway.)

My trip to Ad Astra began much too early yesterday. I’d set the alarm for 4:15 a.m. so I could make the 8:12 flight to Toronto out of Dulles, but I ended up waking at 4:03 and couldn’t get back to sleep. I guess the universe didn’t want me to get those extra 12 minutes for some reason!

I’d hoped to nap on the plane, but the guy sitting next to me proved talkative, which normally would have irked me, since I usually sleep through flights, but luckily, he turned out to be talkative in a good way. He was actually interesting! He was a Canadian who lives in Kuwait and works for the university system there, and we traded stories of our various world travels and what we’d learned of the differing cultures. How he got out of China after Tiananmen Square was a nail-biter. In an extremely rare move for me, we ended up exchanging contact info.

I was met at the airport by Heather King and Roxanne Learn, who got me to the con hotel where I met up with Ellen Datlow and Shawna McCarthy for our preplanned trip to Chinatown for dim sum. With all our overlapping programming, Friday before everything really got started seemed the only day for that kind of excursion. We ended up at Forestview Chinese Restaurant, which we loved—it was busy, crowded, and we were among the very few non-Chinese there, all of which is what I like to see—so I’m glad we hadn’t read the Yelp review first, because that might have scared us away. Because the food was good, and I’d return for more on a future trip to Toronto.

Then, after a visit to the Bata Shoe Museum, which wasn’t at all my suggestion, but proved not to be as dull as this non-Jimmy Choo-wearing guy imagined it would be, Shawna figured out the train system enough to get us to the stop closest to the hotel so we could grab as cheap a cab ride back as possible. (Well, it would have been cheap if not for a cabbie who kept taking wrong turns even with the use of a GPS.)

Back at the hotel, I hung in the bar for a bit, meeting Rio Youers and others for the first time, before going to the opening ceremonies, which was more formal than most because it featured an introduction by The Honourable David C. Onley, Lieutenant Governor of Ontario, and friend to Ad Astra.

Then, it was immediately off to two panels. First, “Using Conventions to Your Advantage,” with Ian Keeling and Justine Lewkowitz, during which I explained that what to do was the opposite of whatever I did when I first started out. (For example, I was so ethically rigid that I deliberately avoided meeting editors, because I wanted them to judge my stories based entirely on the words on the page, and not be influenced by any possible positive encounter with me. Kids, don’t do this at home!)

This was immediately followed by a panel on “Zombies: Rise to Popularity”, with Mandy Slater, Stephen Jones, and Karina Sumner-Smith. That’s me and Karina with Steve above, and the reason we’re bookending him like that is because I’ve got the first story in his upcoming Best New Horror anthology, while she’s got the last one. So we replicated in real life what Steve’s done with his book. It was a great panel, if for no other reason than I got to hear Steve rave about my writing multiple times through the course of it. Don’t know that the audience made of that, but I loved it!

After that, I spent several hours in the green room, but that early rising took its toll, so I went back to the room, uploaded all of my Ad Astra photos so far to Flickr, and then crashed. And now a new day begins. If you’re here, come to my panel about The Walking Dead at noon!

I bought and started using a new iPhone app 15 days ago—Everyday, which prompts you to take a picture of yourself each day at a pre-set time, then assembles them into a video that comes off as a time-lapsed movie of your face. I saw it recommended somewhere, maybe Gizmodo, and it sounded like a fun idea for $1.99.

Here are those first 15 days.

I realized two things watching this.

First, it speeds by pretty quickly, and probably won’t really be interesting until many months of pics have been shot. Though if 15 days runs less than two seconds, that means even a year will be under a minute.

Second, even that’s probably isn’t enough, and to make this really interesting I’d need to do something dramatic, something that would make the changing pics come more alive. Like … grow a beard. Which I just might do once I return from World Horror in Austin, so I can see how it looks.

And actually, I realized three things while watching this. Probably the only one interested in watching pics of me speed by is … me. So instead of this being a post pushing my face in your face, think of it more as an recommendation for the app so you can buy it and do it with your OWN face.

A few weeks ago, I found a bunch of rejections from Paul Levitz for stories I’d submitted to DC’s House of Mystery, and then last week figured out exactly which stories he’d passed on. And because I’d found two of those unused plots, and have no shame, I told you I’d let you see the synopses I’d submitted.

If you can look past the typos and handwritten corrections of a pre-computer age, you’ll see the format in which I was submitting ideas to DC’s mystery line (even though the plots failed to win over Paul). Luckily, as you can see here, I had more hits than misses.

First up, “A Ghastly Tale,” which Paul rejected with the note, “No in-joke industry stories please.” As you’ll see, it was about a comics artist patterned after the EC great Graham Ingels.

Next up, “Video Vengeance,” which Paul rejected by saying, “Good little story — but would cause legal problems, I’m afraid. Sorry.” (more…)

I continue channeling my father by typing out the autobiography he sent to me a few years before his death. In the latest installment, he leaves the comfort of Brooklyn and heads off to boot camp.

Growing Up and Stuff: An Adventure
Part 4

It was only a few months later and there I was in the Navy, with groups of other fresh innocents straight from school and into a conflict for the love of country and the American way.

I managed to see romantic Eddy just before I left. He had gotten married and he and his wife were living in a one-room furnished apartment. They were happy and had a child on the way and were trying to scratch out a living and a life together.

I ran into Eddy years later on the streets of Manhattan. He was rushing to work in the garment district and had little time to talk, so we didn’t even exchange phone numbers.

I guess the years were taking their toll on him. He looked years older than his age and appeared stooped and of course still had a five o’clock shadow. We never did run into each other again.

I remember waking up on the day I was to report to the Navy. I wondered what I was getting into as I stood in front of a mirror combing my hair into my usual high pomp. After all, it had to be just right.

Here I was, right out of school, fresh from being one of the kids you see hanging around the local candy store or the kid that just delivered your groceries to you, all of us trying to grow up and find out what life was all about.

Next thing it’s the draft, thinking of my friends in the Army up to their crotches in mud. I went the Navy way and wound up up to my crotch in salt water.

I held the postcard in my hand, reading it slowly, making sure once again of the address of the place the Navy wanted me to report to. It was easy as pie. I go to the place, step forward, raise my hand in an oath. And follow a group of strangers onto a bus heading for a place called boot camp.

Boot camp turned out to be a very strange place. High fences and guards. As bus after bus rolled into this strange place, you stood around waiting for someone to tell you what to do.

Suddenly, my ears are filled with this loud sound. A voice is issuing a long string of commands loud enough to break the sound barrier, all of this without the aid of any electronic device … Oh, boy!

Here I am running around some sort of camp with people who all sounded funny to me when they talked. I must have sounded funny to them, since my main language was Brooklyn-ese. (more…)

Just to show how seriously the Marvel staff took its softball, the memo below will fill you in. VERY seriously.

The June 30, 1976 memo to the Ruling Board of the Publishers’ Softball League—which was written by co-captains Jim Novak and Irene Vartanoff (hmmm … where have I heard that second name before?)—protested a loss to MacMillan that apparently occurred due to a violation of the rules.

Reading this 35-year-old memo, what I find most fascinating isn’t the intricate plea for justice, but one of the league rules that now seems quaint, and shows how far we’ve come.

You’ll note on page 2 that rule #4 states, “All teams are co-ed with at least 4 women in line up.” That alone isn’t the interesting part—but the fact that there were so few women in publishing at the time, or so few women in publishing willing to play softball, that SEVEN of the teams, including Marvel, were allowed an exemption, IS.

That’s right. In 1976, Marvel, in addition to New American Library, Franklin Watts, New Times, Saturday Review, Screw, and the Society of Illustrators, couldn’t reliably find four women to play softball each week.

Based on the league’s current rules—a league which says that it has been “bringing you the inept athletic stylings of the book and magazine industry for more than 40 years”—no such exemptions are allowed. The current rules regarding gender balance state:

A team must have a minimum of four women in the lineup at all times. A team may play the game with six men and three women, but in that case, the team must list four women in the lineup, leave the fourth outfield position vacant and take an automatic out each time the missing woman’s place comes around in the batting order.

That’s progress, right?

For those who didn’t catch the correct answer when it was guessed, I figure I’d better announce here the identity of the comic book artist I challenged you to identify.

My first clue was that the artist’s “style became the signature look for a well-known character.”

But that wasn’t enough of a clue for any of you to solve the mystery, as all that resulted were a couple of dozen wrong answers. So I gave a second clue, this time that “this artist previously worked for a comics company that was sued by the company he or she eventually ended up defining that character for.”

That was enough to give it away. Within 15 minutes, Jacque Nodell, she of the wonderful blog Sequential Crush, popped up with the correct answer, which is … below, after the pic, in case you want one final chance to guess it on your own.

Give up? (more…)