and sometimes

Today was a weird weird day.

I mean, what does one expect from a trip to comic-con?

Alicat and I walked to the diner of awesome-- only to find out that it had caught on fire the previous evening, and hence was closed. All the regulars were wandering around outside, a shipwreck without an island, while the employees pushed mountains of water and debris out with shovels and brooms. I'm really hoping that they open up again.

We went to New York Comic-con. There was supposed to be a nerd shuttle to take folks from Grand Central to the Javit's center. Couldn't find one anywhere. We ended up taking the city bus which dropped us off at the Intrepid and not the convention center. Ali and I started walking and kept walking and within moments we had a trail of people following us.

And then we encountered the hordes. Lots of people without voice modulation. I wanted to see the Watchmen panel- we were twenty minutes late, but still managed to get in just as it started and watch about 20 minutes of the film. So far so good. The camera work was amazing, the visuals and story telling seemingly faithful to the book, and the alternate history recap very deft and adept.

We stayed seated after that panel for the Friday the 13th panel. Super gor-rific and fast paced. I will admit that I felt really uncomfortable with with the squealing fan girls (and FAH-LAMING fanboys) of Jared Padalecki. Then again I feel really uncomfortable with a lot of the zealotry of fandom. Where does cheerful enthusiasm end and creepy crawly bad-touch begin?

I typically like to keep my 4th wall firmly in place. Not only because I'm socially awkward but because the resonance one might feel with a writer or an actor or a character stems so much from internal baggage of previous real life experience with which the actor/writer was not part.

or something. I'm also drunk posting so if this is remotely coherent Sunday AM when I'm at work AGAIN, I will be fucking shocked. And awed.

point.. oh yes. 2 of them. Famous-ish people. Regardless, today I got introduced to Ginjer Buchanan. Having had friends in the publishing for quite a few years, it was nice to put a face to the name that I'd heard so often in connection to some favorite books. She's not one of the famous-ish people because editors are not frequently the names that people know.

She introduced us to one of her writers, Amber. I commented on Ginger's tattoo that was clearly taken from a Patricia Briggs novel. (If you like Urban Fantasy, read that series.) I suggested that Amber pick up this series as the world building is great and the characters even better.

Regardless I was a having a weird moment of juxtoposition? Diorientation? De ja whatever? particularly when it finally clicked in why this woman, Amber, looked so damn familiar. Amber Benson played Tara on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Tara was, more than most of the other characters was concrete and familiar. I don't know how much of that was the writing or the acting, but when she was on screen I never rolled my eyes or felt,'gee. here is this actor, acting.'

She had a great handshake, was super attentive and present and asked if we could have our photo taken with her for her to twitter.

See?

http://twitpic.com/1dl78


I've read the write up of her book and I'm looking forward to reading it.

We went on, listened to a panel. Sat next to a voice behind a little blog called "galleycat". One of the speakers on the panel was Vicki Petersson. She, like Amanda is a homegrown Las Vegan. Unlike Amanda, she's a showgirl turned novelist. Her heroine and heroes are flawed and visceral and honest in a way that characters are frequently not portrayed in the sub-genre of Urban Fantasy. When I was on my way home from Shady A's posthumous birthday party, one of the books in her series was all that I wanted to read. What a weird thing, right?

The reason I bring this up is that I mentioned to Liz (Editrix extraordinaire) and she encouraged me to tell the author this. I felt weird about it because.. well.. the fourth wall thing and the discomfort with fan zealotry and the last thing I want is to inflict that on someone.

I somehow got up the stones to tell Vicki about it, and she shared how a MaryJanice Davidson book was her escape when her dad was sick. And we talked about writing, and she thanked me for sharing that and how it made her feel better after a rough year of re-writes. And re-writes.

And then Liz, Alicat and I went out. And there was booze. and food. and then Liz left. And then the hockey team bought us a round or maybe more and gave us cake.


And now, it is way past my bedtime.