Are you up for lunch at a spot in Las Vegas once once dubbed “the best Thai restaurant in America” by Gourmet magazine? Then pull up a chair to the table at Lotus of Siam, where Mary Turzillo and I snuck away to during StokerCon for some great food—and great conversation. You can eavesdrop on the latter, but as for the former, the photos below will have to suffice.

I had the great honor of publishing Mary’s story “Mars is No Place for Children” when I was the editor of Science Fiction Age, and then the additional honor of being Toastmaster at the Nebula Awards banquet the year she walked away with a trophy for that very story.

We talked about whether there’s a Venn Diagram overlap between her horror and science fiction readership, how her Cajun Sushi Hamsters from Hell writers workshop got its name, why she won’t be self-publishing her unpublished novels, what Gene Wolfe taught her about revising her fiction, and much more.

Here’s how you can pull up a seat to the table— (more…)

I’ve been working so hard all week (and this weekend, too) that I’ve been forced into silence here since Saturday. But since three things equal a post, how about we let these pics stand in for my week?

First, a lovely pic Irene snapped of me with Geoff Landis and Mary Turzillo at my favorite local dim sum restaurant, New Fortune. While on their way to Maryland for a scientific conference, Geoff and Mary swung through West Virginia Saturday night and had dinner at the Edelman-Vartanoff homestead, followed the next day by shumai over in Maryland, which Irene and I ran over to share.

It was good to play catch-up outside of the madness of a convention.

Next up, a pic of that shows old Marvel pal Bill Mantlo, whose medical woes were recently reported on at length, in far happier times. I published it in the December 1974 issue of Marvel’s official fan magazine, FOOM. It was part of a strange idea I had of running baby pictures of artists and writers, and while everyone else turned in the real thing, Bill came up with this.

And that’s how I’d rather remember him. (more…)

Here are two more readings I attended at the World Fantasy Convention in Columbus, bringing the total up to seven. I’d planned to catch one more, but my visit to the James Thurber House caused me to miss Geoff Landis. Sorry, Geoff!

But here’s Jeffrey Ford:

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I began Friday by sneaking out of the hotel to once more absorb at little bit of Austin culture. I decided to hit the Austin Museum of Art, which turned out to be having an exhibit titled “New Art in Austin: 20 to Watch,” featuring original works by local artists.

You already know how I feel about much of what passes for modern art based on my February 20 visit to New York’s Museum of Modern Art, but there were actually a few people whose work I found intellectually stimulating, notably Jill Pangallo and the team of Jen Hirt and Scott Webel, who create as the collective the Museum of Natural and Artificial Ephemerata. Those latter two turn out to have their own gallery here in Austin, and I intend to make it over there Saturday after lunch.

I then returned to the hotel, where I found the following battle in progress between competing Nebula nominees Jennifer Pelland and Mary Turzillo.

We won’t learn until Saturday night whether Jennifer’s “Captive Girl” or Mary’s “Pride” will take the trophy in the short fiction category, or whether one of their talented competitors such as David Levine, Karen Joy Fowler, Andy Duncan, or Vera Nazarian will win, but since I think that literary competitions should always be resolved by fisticuffs in hotel hallways, I have to believe that Jennifer and Mary have the edge. (more…)

I dreamed this morning that I was visiting a group of people who, though outwardly friendly, turned out to be part of an extreme religious cult. When I tried to go home after dinner, I was prevented from leaving. Though I managed to sneak away within the compound and make a phone call for help, whenever I tried to speak, traffic would mysteriously roar by, drowning out my pleas.

When rescue finally arrives and I leap into the car that has come to take me away, who should be inside but Bob Howe, Mary Turzillo, and Resa Nelson, all Clarion classmates (of each other, not of me)!

Thanks for breaking me out of there, guys!