I have long stressed that the most important thing about convention reporting is that it be done while the convention is still going on. In fact, I’ve codified that in Edelman’s Schadenfreude Rule of Convention Reporting, which states that it isn’t enough for me to be having a good time, you must know I’m having that good time and regret not being there to have it with me.

Updating statuses on Twitter and Facebook doesn’t feel sufficient in terms of making you miserable enough to make me happy. I need to post photos, videos, and blog entries. But as far as this year’s World Horror is concerned, I have failed.

I wrote a blog post about getting to the con, but nothing about the con itself, because I was that busy and tired. The half dozen videos I shot haven’t made it to YouTube yet. And I only just now, 24 hours after returning home, got my pics up on Flickr.

Go check them out. And remember, as you can see below—everything is bigger in Texas!

There’ll be more World Horror commentary later—but first I think I need to recover from World Horror!

Some higher power is trying to do everything it can to stop me from getting to this year’s World Horror Convention in Austin. Could it be … Cthulhu?

It all began with one of the most horrendous storms I’ve ever experienced, with thunder and lightning so great it was as if someone was in my bedroom banging a drum and flipping the light switch on and off. (And no, it wasn’t Irene!)

So I woke with a lousy night’s sleep, a little before I had to. The alarm was set for 4:15, but by 4:00, after having been woken at least half a dozen times through the night, I’d given up, figuring, OK, I may feel like crap, but that will be easily solved by sleeping on the plane. And then, in the few minutes between getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom … our power went out. Which meant an icy cold sponge bath. And, since I couldn’t open the refrigerator, no breakfast. 

I got into my clothes, feeling oogy, and headed out onto roads—well, after manually opening the electric garage door, that is—for which there was both a flood and tornado watch. 

I didn’t get far.

About two miles from the house, an indicator light went on reflecting low tire pressure. I took a look and, because I wasn’t 100% sure which tire it was and if I took the time to change the tire I’d miss my flight, turned around and tried to make it home before I lost so much air it was unsafe to drive.

I didn’t make it all the way. I had to abandon the car about half a mile from our house and walk home in the dark and the rain. Under other circumstances, it could have been beautiful. I told Irene the story, took the other car, drove to my Jeep, grabbed the luggage, and headed to Dulles, feeling grungy, hungry, wet, and tired … and wondering what would go wrong next.

Thanks to the rain, there was so much stopped traffic that I didn’t make it to the gate until just as boarding was beginning. In fact, if there’d been another couple of dozen people at security, I might not have made it at all.

But my travails weren’t over yet.

You should know that even with all my traveling, I’ve never been trapped in a plane. I’ve had flight cancellations, which have often led to some interesting adventures, but I’ve never been stuck on the tarmac. Until this morning. Due to the weather, the flight was delayed for nearly two hours. 

I’m now writing this above the clouds, somewhere between Dulles and Austin, and will post it while waiting for my luggage. But I wonder … do you think I’ll make it all the way to the World Horror Con hotel?

I’m not so sure. I think Cthulhu still has more in store for me.

But don’t worry. There IS a moral here. 

With so many consecutive calamities, I’ve realized—

One thing going wrong is a problem. Two things going wrong could possibly be a disaster. But four or five things in a row going wrong? That’s a farce. And farces are to be savored.

So I’m savoring it.

At least until the next thing goes wrong.

As those of you who were at the World Fantasy Con with me in Columbus last year already know, during my travels these days I try to follow in the footsteps of Adam Richman of Man v. Food.

Here I am, for example, at The Thurman Cafe, where I had the best burger of my life.

Early tomorrow morning, I’ll be heading to Austin for this year’s World Horror Convention. Well, that’s what I’m telling people. Those of you who know be best are aware I’ll really be there to compete in the Man v. Food triathlon.

For those who’ve never seen the show, I’ve embedded the Austin episode below so you can see where I’ll be dragging some of you this weekend.

So—who’s ready for a road trip?

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. Which ended up being fun and comfortable, because it was just like hanging out and catching up with a friend.

Here’s my final piece of Ad Astra video, as Kathryn Cramer and I ramble 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.)

I normally tweet my dreams, but this one turned out to be too intriguing to condense into 140 characters.

I dreamt I was nominated for a Hugo Award, and had entered an area by the side of the stage where a cocktail party was being held for the nominees. Once inside, I mingled with friends until I came upon one of my old Marvel bosses, the long-dead Archie Goodwin. While chatting with him, and wondering in what category the comic book writer/editor had been nominated, I was strangely unsurprised to see him there alive (in the waking world, he died in 1998), looking much as he had when I’d last known him in the early ’80s.

While wandering the room and continuing to schmooze, I suddenly noticed that I wasn’t wearing the suit I usually would for such an event—I was instead In a tie-dyed t-shirt and a pair of jeans shorts.

What I found so interesting about the dream is this—here is where it could all have veered into anxiety dream territory, with me stumbling about, crying “Oh, no,” and wondering how the heck I could get back to my hotel room and change into a suit in time. I could have felt embarrassed over my state, or started to worry about how silly I’d look if I won that night and had to take the stage dressed that way.

Instead, I immediately found it funny.

I told a seated George R.R. Martin that this oversight might be a good omen, that I’d lost the Hugo all four times I’d previously been nominated and showed up wearing a suit, and so perhaps this time, dressed like that, the universe was playing a joke on me and would have me win so I’d have to go up in front of thousands of people that way. That turned the whole dream around, banishing any anxiety that might have arisen, and I found it all hilarious, instantly thinking of how much fun I could have laying it out that way in my acceptance speech.

And as I went around the room sharing this silliness with friends, I woke happy, not just because of that dreamworld realization, but also because of the real-world realization that I’d turned what could have been an anxiety dream inside out. I was glad that, even unconscious, I could look on the bright side of life.

No idea what category I was nominated in, though.

I attended Derwin Mak’s reading on the final day of Ad Astra 2011 intending to record it all, but sadly, the battery on my Flip camcorder died 10 minutes in. When I told this to Derwin, feeling sheepish about it, he said he didn’t mind if I went ahead and posted the clip of his reading anyway.

So I have.

Apologies to all for the way this cuts off in the middle of a sentence … but a little Derwin Mak is better than no Derwin Mak at all.

I’ve been so busy since Ad Astra two weekends back that with this post I’m breaking one of my rules. What rule is that? I call it Edelman’s Schadenfreude Rule of Convention Reporting. Which means …

I consider it insufficient to wait until getting home to write up how much fun I’m having. All convention reporting must occur while that convention is actually occurring. It’s not enough that I have a wonderful time—YOU have to KNOW that I’m having a wonderful time and be miserable because you’re not there having a wonderful time, too. You’ve got to be agonizing, thinking, “If only I jumped on a plane RIGHT NOW, I could be at the con ALSO having a wonderful time! Why aren’t I?”

Then, and only then, can I be truly joyful. But—the day job has demands I can’t ignore, and so you’ve had to wait nine days for this particular piece of video.

Ad Astra paired up writers to share an hour, and on April 10, 2011, after I read my short story “The Only Wish Ever to Come True,” Matthew Johnson read “Holdfast.”

And here he is!

Unfortunately, I’ll be continuing to break Edelman’s Schadenfreude Rule of Convention Reporting in the coming weeks, because I still have a few more clips to share …

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. I’ll upload his performance in a separate video.

I chose that story because Matthew had indicated that he’d be reading a fantasy, so I thought I should, too, so that the flavors would blend together well for any audience. Also, I’d only read “The Only Wish Ever to Come True” once before, at a Readercon, and it was unlikely anyone attending Ad Astra would have heard it before. Don’t want to be repetitive!

Anyway, I recorded the hour so that what happens in Toronto doesn’t have to stay in Toronto.

(Please note that for some reason I’ve yet to figure out, the first few seconds of the last couple of videos I’ve uploaded are wonky, but that clears up quickly before the story begins. But if anyone has any suggestions as to why this is happening, please let me know!)

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!

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…)