I'll be at Fogcon this weekend, a lovely small lit-focussed convention held in the Bay Area (and accessible by BART, which I intend to prove this afternoon). Excellent people (this year's Guest of Honor is Delia Sherman) If you happen to be in the neighborhood, I'll be doing a two panels and a reading, as follows:
Friday, 8pm: Writing Between Genres
Are you writing a book that is both science fiction and fantasy? Do you have a an idea for a story which is both a romance and a crime thriller? What happens if your book is not easily categorizable, neither fish nor fowl? Can it get published, or is it doomed to fall through the cracks? This panel will discuss how to succeed cross-genre, and how to market the interstitial nature of your work as a selling point, not a problem needing solving.
Friday, 9pm: Reading with Laura Blackwell, Garrett Calcaterra, Nancy Jane Moore, and me. I will read my new collaboration with my daughter Becca. What could go wrong?
Saturday, 8pm: Between the Pixie and the Crone, with Emily Jiang, JK, Ellen Klages, and. All about middle aged women--"the invisible infrastructure" in SF. Really looking forward to this one.
If you're there, come say Hi. If you're not... well, come some time. It really is a nice con.
It's like someone up there is trying to prove a point about, like, climate irascibility: already today before noon: bright sunshine, brief downpour, sunshine, sprinkle, sunshine, and, then, just now: Hail.
I'm not even going to ask WTF. I know we've needed the rain, but no where is it written that we need the hail.
Today it is pouring down buckets, as it has been doing, intermittently, since November. I will get out my rain boots and go forth to work. But I gotta say that even the California mantra "But we need the rain" is, by this time, to this non-Californian, ringing a touch hollow.
Here, have a song, and the story behind it.
This has been a challenging year, but this morning we gathered--two daughters, one-soon-to-be-son-in-law, one dog, Danny and I--to eat doughnuts, open stockings, and then presents. In honor of Julie's songwriting talents (see below) Julie got artichokes in her stocking; Becca got avocados, and Joe got a stalk of Brussels sprouts. I love my family.
Whether this is your holiday or not, may your day be peaceful and sunny, your health good, your toes warm and your home full of delicious smells and more-delicious foods. May the year ahead exceed your hopes for health and good work.
And Julie's pre-op Artichokes for Christmas carol:
Here, for example, is the Nativity, with Julie dead center, playing a slightly crazed Virgin Mary:
What I wasn't expecting was for one of the homilies (read by Mad Sal herself) to turn into Joe's proposal of Marriage to Julie. RIght there in front of the audience--and The Guv 'imself, Dad (God). It was wonderful. Not a dry eye in the house.
And I understand that Julie was so overwhelmed with joy that she got sick after the fair and puked in the car driving back to Davis. Joe cannot say he doesn't know what/who he's getting. Me, I'm waiting for the video to show it to Danny.
Portrait of a woman lighter one appendix and full of delicious painkillers. And on her way home.