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October 20, 2006
Mixed Nuts
Earlier today I heard that the Australia Council Literature Board, from whom I was hoping to receive a grant for the perpetration of a fresh work of sf, that it was passing. In my category, they'd received 177 applications, but accepted only 32, so the odds were about 5:1 against.
Oh well. Bugger. Try again next time. Meanwhile, now that I've got three books out, I get to apply in the next higher category. That's right: I'm now a Third-Level Science Fiction Author! I wonder how many hit dice that works out to?
Then again, the day wasn't a total bust: I've been watching Amazon.ca to see how the new title is getting along. A while back it was up as high as about 16,000--the best result one of my books has seen at Amazon. Then I watched each day as the number sagged; as of yesterday it was almost down to 100,000. Hmm.
Then today I had another squizz, and saw it was up to the lofty heights of 5300!
I nearly fainted. I was all beside myself. As of right now it's dropped down to 6000, but even so. That's up there, that is. Phwoar!
Go and check it out yourself. And, if you're one of the brave and esteemed souls who've actually read HYDROGEN STEEL, why not leave a few words about what you thought? You'd be doing me a favour.
Posted by adrian at 07:35 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
October 18, 2006
Trip Report Part 4: The Best Part of Travel
[This is another epic post; read at your own risk]
When we were in the weeks and months leading up to this trip, we spent a lot of time thinking about events and such at the convention (and nearby) that would be great to attend or visit.
Top of the list, obviously, was the Hugo Awards Ceremony. After attending the Hugos at the 2004 Worldcon, and thoroughly enjoying it, we thought the Hugos this time were a must-go thing. And yet, hmm, when the time came, we were knackered, still not fully caught up on jetlag, and weary from a hard day congoing. So we skipped it.
Right next to the Anaheim Convention Centre is Disneyland. In fact there's no way you can spend any time in the entire Anaheim region without being reminded often that Disneyland is here. One giant clue is the fact that the whole region is lousy with hotels: big ones, little ones, motels and inns, you name it. You go for a walk in the immediate area around the convention centre, and all you see is hotels and businesses supporting tourists. Inside the Anaheim Hilton there are constant reminders about Disneyland's existence, and even a special desk set aside where you can book tickets and travel to and fro. Before we set out for the convention we learned that the LA Con committee had arranged with Disneyland for discount tickets, of which the cheapest would have been $US38 each, which wasn't bad. All the same, once actually at the convention, feeling tired and a bit overwhelmed, we both realised neither of us were that much interested in going along: in fact, for the $76 it would cost us just to get in the gate (let alone transport there, and eating, etc, inside), we would much rather buy more books. Mass-market paperback books, starting around $7.99 each, were just too tempting, and the many book sellers in the convention Dealers' Room had thousands of titles from which to choose. Mmmmm, cheap books... So we skipped Disneyland.
People asked us what we were planning to do once the convention was over? Were we going straight home, or hanging around to do some touristy things? We booked about ten nights at the hotel, to give us a few days before the con, and a few days after the con. In these post-convention days, the initial plan was that yes, we would indeed be heading into LA itself to do all manner of touristy stuff. Then we looked at a map, and saw that all the stuff we were interested in seeing was in the western part of LA, while Anaheim was way to the east. This meant it would take at least an hour or more, driving on freeways, to get there, and back. The prospect of really long bus or van journeys over rough freeways gave me the horrors. I could really do without getting sick again. Yes, Michelle had found me some Dramamine, but we didn't yet know if the stuff was effective, and in the end I decided I didn't want to chance it--even though this meant we'd be hanging around the hotel a lot more than we'd planned.
This is perhaps the thing people who never get motion sickness never appreciate: it makes you scared to travel. It colours everything you think about when it comes to even quite short journeys. Once, a couple of years ago, I had to take a taxi from here to a nearby shopping centre. Not a long way, and the roads are nice and smooth. Nonetheless, the motion sickness kicked in almost as soon as the taxi got underway. We had to pull over twice on the way. There's no way to tell when it's going to happen, and when it does happen it's the worst feeling in the world. So we skipped being tourists in LA, too.
All the same, the convention itself was brilliant. The various panels I was scheduled for went off really well. The moderators were effective in leading and guiding the discussion, and the other panellists were informative and funny. A standout was the "SF in Australia" panel on Friday afternoon. Two of the panellists (including Sean Williams, the legendarily prolific Australian sf/fantasy author) had withdrawn, leaving Sean McMullen, David Cake and myself. Publisher Brian had brought along a very big Australian flag for me as a gift, and suggested we use it at the SF in Australia panel. In the end, we did, and managed to drape it over the front of the desk in front of us. In the course of the panel, most of the discussion was with Sean and Dave, who clearly knew way more than I did about the history of sf/fantasy in Oz; I learned a lot. Sean was very generous in showing off my own books, too.
Michelle spent a lot of time either buying books or going along to panels. Among her highlights were a panel featuring several writers from the new incarnation of Doctor Who, and another featuring most of the key writing staff from the new Battlestar Galactica (including Ron Moore). I'm pretty sure the Galactica panel was opposite one of my panels and felt torn about which to attend. I shook my head and told her to get along to the Galactica panel, pronto; I would be all right.
Otherwise we just basked in the buzz of the thing, meeting all manner of fascinating people. One real highlight was at long last meeting River Selkie--and her sister "Evil Lyn" (real names omitted). I've been reading River Selkie's blog for, it seems to me, about five years (!), but of course we'd never met. Selkie and Evil Lyn turned up on the final day and we hung out, caught up, signed books, and then they came along to my reading. This reading slot was memorable in that people actually came to see me reading! I say this with some shock because, at our two previous Worldcons, the room was either full of people waiting for the next guy, or just plain empty. Seeing people waiting to hear me read was wonderful. Wound up reading the first three chapters of HYDROGEN STEEL, which seemed to go over well.
Another highlight was a group get-together with folks from the Robert J. Sawyer mailing list, which I read. Rob is the classiest author I've ever met, and one of the very best (have just recently finished reading his novel CALCULATING GOD, which was tremendous), and it was fun to meet up with other folks from the mailing list who have only been names in my mail programme to me.
At length, though, it was time to say goodbye to everyone. Before Publisher Brian and Anita left he first gave me a chunk of royalty money (yay!) and a whacking great big box of copies of HYDROGEN STEEL and ECLIPSE--well over 30 books in all. We'd planned to ship all our book purchases home rather than lug them in our bags, but in the end we decided it would be better to ship home the big box of HS and E. And, as it happened, the cost of FedExing such a big heavy box back to Australia was just shy of the money Brian just gave me--but it saved us from what otherwise would have been either a very expensive exercise, or a very awkward and unpleasant exercise taking them home with us on the plane/s. As it happened, the big box turned up the day after we got home. Sweet!
The two days we wound up hanging around the hotel were pretty dull. We hung out in Starbucks a lot, and watched a lot of local telly. I suffered mightily with homesickness, and just wanting to go home. Then, finally, it was time to go. I swallowed a bunch of Dramamine and we got a taxi from the front of the hotel. It's actually a crazy thing to do, getting a taxi from Anaheim to LAX. Much more economical to get one of the shuttle-buses. I didn't fancy my chances, even with Dramamine fizzing through my blood. So a taxi it was, and that worked out to $100 (!), but the trip was absolutely fine. Not a single twinge, qualm, iffy moment, or other bad vibe.
Then it was a long, long wait at the airport--about 8 hours. Unsure what state I'd be in once we got here, we thought it best to allow for the worst possible scenarios. I didn't mind in the least.
In the gate lounge, waiting to board, I watched loads of planes go by. There were gigantic picture windows providing magnificent views of taxiing aircraft, so close I kept expecting their wingtip fins to bump against the glass. For a plane geek like me, this was very cool indeed. Michelle, I'm quite sure, got tired of me saying, "Look! Look! It's an A345!" etc. I was fairly bouncing in my seat, I was so excited, not just at the sight of all these planes, but just at the thought that we were going home, hoooooome, at long last! I knew I was really in trouble when I spotted a few gum trees across the other side of the runway, and felt huge "I want to be in Australia NOW!" pangs.
When we got to Singapore after 17 hours of flight (I got some sleep), I was nearly bouncing with excitement. Not long now! Not long now! The 4.5-hour flight to Perth, I was grinning like an idiot all the way. When we reached Shark Bay (way up north), and actual Australian land, I couldn't take my eyes off the view out the window. Look! Actual Australian bushland! Look!
And then there was Perth over there, and we were banking in to land at the airport. So exciting! Even Michelle, who was merely exhausted, was pleased. Finally, on the ground, through Customs, with our bags, standing in a line somewhere, I heard one of the Immigration guys telling someone cheerfully to get themselves in there, mate. The accent, the whole "mate" thing. I nearly cried I was so happy to be home.
Then the taxi home. Sitting in the left front seat of the car, where taxi passengers are supposed to sit. In the US it was weird sitting in the right front seat. You feel like there should be a steering wheel in front of you, but there isn't, and it's just wrong. Anyway, familiar landscapes, smells, clear air, bright sunshine.
It's true what they say: the best part of travelling is coming home.
Posted by adrian at 07:36 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
October 12, 2006
Trip Report Part 3: The 1001 Program Items
[Beware: this post is huge! Really huge! Much more huge than I thought it would be. Read at your peril. You have been warned.]
Too Many Choices!
The first day of LA Con IV dawned hot and sticky, but that morning, as hordes of fannish types (many in ingenious and clever Space Cadet costumes, per the convention's theme), loitered outside the convention centre, waiting for the whole huge shambling show to get underway, there was a definite anticipatory buzz in the air. Many folks were bent over their Pocket Program books, a weighty spiral-bound tome listing every program item, and how to find them, for the five-day run.
It was while we first looked through our Pocket Program books the previous day, and starting to panic at the sight of detailed and complicated maps depicting not only the convention centre but also relevant areas in the two convention hotels, and the big arena next to the convention centre, that we began to think, "Holy crap! This thing's a lot bigger than we were expecting!" In fact, it was much, much bigger than anything we'd previously seen (or possibly we just don't get out enough).
This first day of the convention 108 items were scheduled. You might think, well that at least gives you plenty of choice. I mean, at some points there were as many as 10 or 15 items on at the same time. With numbers like that, the odds were good that at least two or more items that you really wanted to see were running at the same time, presenting nasty dilemmas. Not so much for me, since I spent most of my time not on various panels and not gawking about the Exhibition Hall (more about that below), at the EDGE Science Fiction and Fantasy Publishing booth in the huge, hangar-like Dealers' Room. Michelle, on the other hand, often found herself having to make hard choices over which of several interesting things she could see. Somehow she managed, but felt disappointed at all the excellent stuff she was missing. (The following day, Thursday, btw, featured 264 items!)
Exhibition Hall and Dealers' Room
The Exhibition Hall (only one of many available at the convention centre) looked big enough it should have had its own weather, like those vast workshops at Boeing you hear about. When it opened at midday on Wednesday, the waiting hordes plunged through the doors--and, like me, stopped cold, astonished.
The first thing on display was a collection of replica robots from various sf movies, of which the star was a perfect replica of Robbie the Robot from Forbidden Planet (and various lesser works we don't go into). With Robbie were replicas of C-3PO and R2-D2 from Star Wars, a fairly dodgy-looking Dalek, a Terminator, a poor copy of the robot from the movie Metropolis, the two little worker bots from Silent Running and--oh yes, Jessica Rabbit from Who Framed Roger Rabbit? If the game was, Which of these things is not like the others? then the answer was pretty clear. "What's she doing here?" Weird. Meanwhile, at the other end of the group was a man-sized version of Gigantor, clanking hero of cheesy Japanese cartoons I watched (and watched again) many times during my childhood.
The Robbie the Robot, though (which I could have bought for $17,000), made me smile the most. Forbidden Planet is one of my all-time favourite sf movies. Seeing the big metal guy there, talking and operating, etc, made me feel like a big hairy fanboy of the first water. An excellent start to the proceedings.
Pressing on into the great cavernous space, there was a replica of the Martian Rover Spirit/Opportunity over there at a NASA exhibit, and over here was a great selection of costumes and props from all 40 years of Star Trek, including a lot of items from the original series (I ooohed and aaahed, seeing actual Phaser pistols, Tricorders, Dr McCoy's famous "salt shaker" surgical instruments, a Klingon disruptor pistol, and much else. If only you could actually touch these gems!) And just over yonder was a big exhibit of costumes from all incarnations of the show (and movies), but these didn't look nearly so impressive, possibly because the mannequins wearing them were perhaps a couple of sizes too small for many of the garments; they just kind of hung on the mannequins, shapeless and disappointing.
More disappointing was the recreation of the original Enterprise bridge set, populated by waxwork figures of the original crew, donated by a local museum. The likenesses were, hmm, approximate, and the wigs they wore didn't exactly add to the verisimilitude. You could pay money to have your photograph taken with the wax dummies, but I never saw anybody taking them up on the offer.
Then, going around a corner, suddenly there's the original 1960s-vintage Batmobile (!), the Back to the Future time-travelling DeLorean, a fairly convincing copy of Mad Max's Ford Interceptor--and, weirdly, a small car, nothing terribly remarkable about it, except that it had been extensively modified by this local guy to look very much like a Rebel Fighter from Star Wars. It was extremely impressive, very detailed both inside and out, but the thought I couldn't shake was that you would not dare drive it around in the course of day-to-day life: some hoon would be sure to start souveniring various bits of the marvellous detail work (the laser cannons, for instance).
There was also a big Art Show, which I completely ignored, other than simply registering its sprawling acreage. Michelle went and checked it out at one point, and was gone a long time. On her return she remarked that it was like other convention art shows she's seen (only on a huge scale): work covering the whole gamut from enthusiastic amateur to all kinds of slick commercial material. She enjoyed it.
The other major feature of the Exhibition Hall, before it gave way to the Dealers' Room (which took up the rear half of the space), was a huge two-sided wall divided up into yearly sections dating back to the 1930s, and reaching up to the present. You signed the board to mark the year you first joined fandom. On this first day, there were very few signatures; by the final day it was thick to the point of near-unintelligibility with countless signatures. I never had a pen with me when I went past the wall, but I eyed off the "1979" section fondly.
Then, suddenly, it was all dealers all the time. Countless book dealers; jewellery dealers; folks selling all manner of swords and similar weaponry; another selling a range of professionally-made capes and cloaks; folks flogging funny t-shirts by the hundred; others selling genre-themed plush toys (the plush Cthulhus were my favourite, followed by the plush Microbes). Oh, and right up the back, in a corner by themselves, but with tonnes of books to flog, were the Scientologists, not doing much business, by the look of it. (It was like they had a Forbidden Planet-style force field set up to keep customers out.)
And, in amongst all this overwhelming stuff, was the EDGE booth, where Publisher Brian, his fabulous wife Anita, Wonder Publicist Janice, and several other actual EDGE authors (Rebecca Rowe, Lynda Williams, Janice Cullum) were gathered behind the most impressive display I've so far seen from them at a Worldcon. Oh, and in the back of the display were huge posters featuring the covers of the new releases, including my own HYDROGEN STEEL, and Rebecca Rowe's FORBIDDEN CARGO, among others. We caught up, got hugged a lot, and had a fine time. Anita, Brian and Janice told, I think, every single person who came by that not only did my book ECLIPSE win the Aurealis Award, but that my ORBITAL BURN was shortlisted for it. (I had to explain exactly what the Aurealis Award was about, and that there are actually two major genre awards in Australia, of which the Ditmar arguably has more credibility, but still...) It was great to hear everyone being so enthusiastic about my work. I tell you, these folks are like family to us, they treat us so well.
What really gobsmacked me, not just this first day but throughout the entire convention, was the number of folks who came along who bought not just my new book, but all three of my books. Never at a convention have I signed so many books, and never has my writing hand hurt so much--but it's the very best part of being a writer, signing books and meeting folks who've decided to take a chance on you. These experiences make up for every other difficulty, inconvenience, the chore of travelling all that way, the expense, the whole thing: making a connection with a reader is pure gold.
The Dreaded "Mix and Match Writing Challenge" Panel
Meanwhile, later that day I had one program item: the dreaded "Mix and Match Writing Challenge". I was petrified. Also on the panel were heavy-duty sf author John Barnes, David D. Levine (who went on to win the Best Short Story Hugo), Peter S. Beagle, and Valerie Frankel--and panel moderator (and Guy in Charge of Programming for the Whole Convention), Craig Miller). Intimidating.
All the same, I trooped (er, limped on my poor aching foot) along, found the room, and gaped at the sheer size of these rooms. Unlike the sorts of rooms I've seen for panel discussions at other conventions, which are small and intimate, these rooms were big. Room for over 100 people big. And this one soon filled up. I sat up there at the desk, feeling embarrassed and nervous.
Then the other panellists started pulling out these handwritten sheets of paper, reading through them, riffling the pages this way and that. Hmm. The instructions I received for the panel said that the panellists would be given some combination of famous character, setting, and storyline (with all names filed off), and told to write a story featuring these items. I figured that we'd be doing it live, in front of everyone.
No. The idea was that the Sunday before the convention started, the moderator emailed all the participants with their assignments, and asked everyone to write them up at home, and just bring them along to the panel, and read them out loud to the gathered throng.
On Sunday, when this email arrived here, I was on a plane somewhere over the Pacific. I didn't see the email until we got home many days later.
So while Moderator Craig was explaining about these emails to everyone, and getting everyone to introduce themselves, I was panicking, feeling acutely embarrassed, horrified, and wishing to die. Craig took pity on me, though, and said that while everyone else read out their stories, I could get busy writing mine, and then read it out at the end. Paper, a biro, and some instructions materialised--and I got to work, writing furiously, thinking about the ingredients I'd been given (a character description that sounded like either Frodo or Sam from Lord of the Rings; a setting that was obviously the Ringworld; and a storyline that was The Wizard of Oz). By the time everyone had finished and it was my turn, Craig asked if I'd written a story. I said, "I've got an opening...?" He said that was fine, and got me to start reading.
My story involved a nervous young woman, Sally Protagonist, not exactly bold of heart, waking up and being stunned to find herself stuck on a world arranged in a giant hoop--and then being accosted by a Wizard-type figure who explains, as heroine is baffled and confused about where she is, and why the world looks like that, that she is to go on a bloody great long quest, with the goal of flattening out the world. The world was broken, and had curled up on itself (like those hidden dimensions you hear about). There was a whole lot of "you are the Chosen One" and "destiny" and "you cannot refuse" etc. Once the Wizard figure explained everything, heroine said, sensibly, "But that's bullshit!" which got a good laugh, to my enormous relief.
Upshot: for the rest of the convention I met several folks who had been at that panel, and who claimed they'd been so impressed at seeing my scribble this nonsense live, in front of them, that they wanted to come and find me and buy my book. I could not have been more astonished.
That Evening
After the Dealers' Room closed at 6pm, the Edge folks and quite a few friends and colleagues, marched off in search of dinner. We wound up at a nearby IHOP. I had heard of these places, but never seen one before. When the enormous food arrived I was reminded of a Cory Doctorow story, "Themepunks", I'd read on Salon.com sometime back, in which the main characters, in a nasty near-future setting, go to eat at a local IHOP, and one of the characters observes that the food there is essentially "candy", all very sweet and fattening, etc. I agreed, but still it was tasty and Michelle and I had a fabulous time hanging out with everyone (Lynda Williams, Rebecca Rowe and her hubby, Sharon and Mike, Bruce, Heidi Lampietti (of Red Jack Press).
And then, time for bed. We were still not quite adjusted to the local timezone, and were knackered, and my headache was still grinding along in the background of my head, no matter what I did to it.
Then, of course, around 9pm, the Disneyland artillery battery fireworks started. Aaaagh!
In the next exciting episode: The rest of the convention! Lots of panels! Expensive food! Buying too many books! Still with the headache! Hanging out with Publisher Brian and Anita and company a lot! Homesickness! All this and much, much more!
Posted by adrian at 07:52 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack