World Fantasy Convention Saturday

Saturday at WFC is often the longest and most productive day. Many folks come in just for Saturday, or that’s the last full day they’re here, leaving early on Sunday. Folks bustle about trying to finish off business or set up that last minute meeting. They’re also buying or trading books. The dealers’ room at this convention actually gives precedence to book dealers. Unlike other conventions where an author might walk in and have no one selling his work, almost everyone can find a copy of their work in the dealer’s room and a supply of collectible books they want. (I have my eye on a Gnome Press King Conan volume.)

Today was a lot of fun for me. Bob Vardeman and I had breakfast, and were joined over the course of our stay at the coffee shop by Nathan Long and Joan Saberhagen. Bob and I, deciding to have a sensible breakfast, started with cinnamon rolls, then got something sweet. I think I’m still up and running from the Mocha.

I had lunch with my cousin Christie. She’s local. I don’t think I’d seen her for at least five years, and probably eight; but lunch was fun and we had a great conversation. She’s going to look into doing swing dancing here in San Jose. That would be cool. I’d know where to dance on my next trip through.

The culminating event on WFC Saturday, however, is the Morhaim Family Dinner. At 6:15 all of Howard’s clients gathered in Tuxes and gowns for a picture, and then we were off to the restaurant. We ate at a place called Paolos, and it was great. We started with drinks, and I went for an 18 year old Macallan. Very nice. For dinner I had corn chowder, a filet and the dessert was a flourless chocolate torte. When it arrived I was thinking, “Damn, that is a dinky piece of torte.” But Bob figured out that the whole thing had to be about 20,000 calories, and I think he underestimated. It was the best chocolate I had all year—and remember that I spent a week in Belgium.

What was cool is that this was Howard’s 30th year in business. At Bob’s suggestion we gave him an engraved Cherrywood box with all of our cards in it. Howard got up and give a brief address on the subject of the state of the industry and his belief that publishing would get through the doldrums it’s in now. It was a very hopeful message for all of us.

At one of these dinners you might think that very lofty literary subjects are spoken of, but not so. (That could be an effect of being near me, though, and others could have been having such conversations, come to think of it.) Around me we talked about all sorts of cool subjects, including teaching writing; and we had constant updates on the score of the World Series game.

One of the funnier aspects of the dinner is all of us congregating in the lobby. Folks come up to ask why we’re all dressed up, and that’s cool. Other folks come up and say, “Wow, you clean up nice.” That’s cool, too, since we all do look really sharp in tuxes. Part of me does wonder, though, if they’re really saying, “You look pretty lousy most of the time, but when you step your game up, you don’t do half bad.” I think it’s the air of disbelief in the words and expression when they say we clean up nice that makes me wonder about that.

There are parties going on through midnight tonight, but I’m exhausted. Part of it is being in a tux. I love it, but I’m just not used to it. I worry too much about dragging sleeves through gravy. Still, the ceremony is wonderful and makes me feel grown up. Not sure how feeling that makes me feel, but I’ll work on that.

(Tux pictures soon, I promise)