Soft Clackings
September 5, 2000
7:44 a.m.
I would have to write a gazillion words to really capture everything that happened at Worldcon. But then, that's the nature of the beast I suppose. How exactly can you capture the events of five days of mingling with Science Fiction's best and brightest? The answer, of course, is that you can't. But I had a very good time. That much I can say. I met lots of great people, who--for fear of leaving anyone out--I'll not even attempt to name. I saw the cover art for my analog story on a T-Shirt. Pretty cool, huh? I saw that "Stealing the Sun" actually garnered enough Hugo ballots to make the list of honorable mentions they handed out at the end of the awards ("honorable mentions" are my words, which I made up because I don't know what else to call it--sorry if I got the terminology wrong). Again, very cool--especially since it was so totally unexpected. I talked to editors, signed a few autographs, learned a lot, got opinions on a few things I wanted to get opinions on, chatted on-line, did a couple of pretty spiffy panels, and even walked away with a story idea that I've been working on this morning. I'm about 1500 words into it. Like I said in one of the panels I was on--when I know what I'm writing, it's really hard not to write 1,000 or more words an hour. I know exactly what I'm writing on this one. When we got home, my parents brought Brigid back. I think she grew two inches in the five days we were gone. Her jeans didn't fit her again. Her grandfather had bought her a Nintendo. Where the heck was he when I was eleven, right? This morning it was quiet downstairs. I didn't put any music on. Just wrote. I got lost in the clacking of the keys, the rhythm of the words appearing on the screen. Conventions are fun. People are great, and meeting friends and fans who have read your stuff is, of course, wonderful. But in the end, it's about sitting in the basement and listening to the rattle of the keys and letting things happen inside your head. In the end, it's all about the work. And, in the end--for all its other trappings, that's what I love the most about being a writer.  No 3 book contract, though Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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