Oached Pish

Well, I tried to upload, without success. a couple of short vids of autumnal colors glowing in the afternoon sun.

Tooo bad I'm all thumbs, as the colors are glorious. Boston was so good to me on this likely last visit, now that I've retired from VP. The weather was perfect, I had great food (I really was plunked into the middle of the prime restaurant area) and in two days I hiked over ten miles--a lot for this old bod. Especially over rough brick sidewalk obviously quite old. In fact the sidewalks were interesting, clearly reworked in patches over the years. Everything was wonderful, including the lovely garden at Old West Church, where I met a writing colleague.

Now trying to catch up on all the things!

When I began to write, the sun was going down and I heard a young man's voice singing vespers. The liturgy echoed between buildings in an ethereal way, so ancient the melodic line has slowly polished itself like pebbles between sand and sea.

I found a store that only sells Japanese food and drink items and snacks. Some packages had no English, but I was able to puzzle out the main idea as Kanji are close to Hanzi in most regards, and ad language is simple enough for kids to parse (and pay).

Today I meandered most of the freedom trail, breaking off to explore historical sites, and used book stores, to get lost, finally to sit and rest my arthritic carcass and watch the endless fascination of other lives. Met and scritched a bumper crop of three dogs, all of whom appreciated my fingernails.

Some more rambles tomorrow, and to meet a VP friend (I feel confident that I am not being presumptuous when I say friend, though I am increasingly cautious about my clueless assumptions) and maybe Beacon Hill?

Left the island this morning, amid poignant feelings, as I am retiring from Viable Paradise, to make way for younger blood. It was quite cold--42. I decided to go ahead and wear my pair of socks with my sandals, as it might be windy on the water, and 40 degrees is around my comfort level when wearing my sandals (which is all I brought).

The ferry ride was otherwise crisp and clear, the air so pure I couldn't snuffle in enough. And thought it was sunny, it still stayed cool! A miracle! At home, it's the sun is out, it's hot. Well, it's always hot, but sun means hotter. Especially this time of year.

After a pleasant ferry ride in the exilarating wind (Met one lovely King Charles spaniel of venerable years) I got a pesto grilled cheese and a cheese danish in Wood's Hole, and sat on a bench eating those and reading until it was time for the bus. I kept taking shots of the brilliant trees along the 28 as the bus bowled along toward Boston, which is where I am now. I actually managed to find a reasonably priced hotel right on the edge of the Boston Common, to facilitate my plan to walk the Freedom Trail tomorrow. In a few minutes I'll go out and scout the area; from my window I can see a promising French breakfast place in one direction, and a halal place next to a mosque on the corner. I will probably try it out tomorrow, as today that cheese danish will do for dinner.

I half-expected the place to be weird for so reasonable a price in this area, and, well, I was right. No reception desk. You have to call a number, where a studenty voice tells you the codes for all the doors. My room is four stories up, and the elevator had a big NOT IN USE sign. The disembodied voice told me to use the elevator anyway, since there was no way on earth I could drag all my crap plus my arthritic ass up all those stairs. Not in under three hours, at a guess. "Take the elevator," he said.

I took the elevator. It creaked and banged and bumped into heaven knows what, and I was composing my obituary when it actually arrived. I found my room, which is tiny but clean. It has a very uneven floor. Very. Uneven. A nice French lady came along to explain the heater (which doesn't work) and assured me that this room is very old, very old. They are in the midst of massive renovation, which got interrupted by Covid. Recently started again. Uh, yup. I could tell.

But it's clean, and has enough plugs for my electronic spaghetti, so I will contrive. It'll be dark soon, so I'd better face those four floors and cruise the lay of the land. I'm sure it will be good for me.

Leaving tomorrow for the east coast, which means today is the fun yet exasperating task of packing. First off, there's the "you can't take everything" gridlock. Then, for me, there's the packing in faith. That is, faith that it won't be hot and humid as it's been here for-sweating-ever. Last year I was so sweaty and disagreeable I threw summer clothes in, because I couldn't bring myself to even touch heavy weather stuff--and anyway, I was convinced it would be hotter than hell everywhere forevermore.

Well, it wasn't.

I got back east . . . and there was actual, physical rain. You know, water from the sky. In October? Im-possible! But it happened. I reveled in it for a day of fifty degree temps, then when the air dropped into the forties, and I got damp, I had to admit that I was shivering, especially in a sharp wind. So I had to buy a hoodie, though I have longsleeve stuff at home that never gets worn unless I travel, because it never gets cold enough for it. Discovery--hoodies were thicker and better made than stuff I could find around here. Who knew!

So. First thing into the suitcase is that same hoodie, as I try not to drip sweat on it. Then I stand back in disgust. The problem with heavy clothes is how much SPACE they take up! Last year when I left I was so proud of how light my suitcase was with a handful of T-shirts and shorts and one pair of long pants.

My compromise is that I no longer take walking shoes, since I really resent how much space shoes waste, as well as how heavy they are. One pair of walking sandals is all I take, and those will be on my feet or beside the door of whatever space I stay in. I'll take a pair of the purple socks my friend knitted for me ten years ago, in case the temp gets down to 32 or so, but otherwise my feet don't get cold if it's merely in the forties or upper thirties.

Then I look around at the books out of old habit. It used to be the biggest conflict of all, which reading material to take. Heavy books last longer, but: heavy. The new-to-me bio of Louis XIV I have is utterly splendid, but weighs about as much as the suitcase with all my duds in it. No go. Luckily there's digital, so I'm well stocked up there, and loving it; I also no longer have to fuss and worry over acquiring maps, or remember my unwieldy address book. Those have been replaced, alas, by electrical spaghetti, i.e. charging cords for my gadgets. (Laptop, tablet, phone, hearing aid charger, water flosser)

My one day at Worldcon happened yesterday. I drove over to Anaheim extra early, which meant driving nine miles straight into the sun, which was hair-raising, but once I got there, and had to park in the nosebleed-costing hotel parking, things took an abrupt turn for the better.

I'd been worried about registration and my first panel as reg wouldn't open till 8:30 and I was sure the lines would be super long, and my panel far off in another building at nine. But it turned out that because I was staff, I was permitted to go in early, get the reg done, and thus have plenty of time to hike in the rising heat to the next building and fumble around until I found the panel site. The reg person even turned out to know and like my books, a rare delight!

That set the tone for the day. Panel went really well, I met a bunch of old friends, met some new (like Margaret Owen, whose books I really like a lot) had time for a leisurely tour of the dealers' room and art show, and so on till the next panel, which was about Book View Cafe and starting your own publishing coop. That room was packed! Says a lot about the state of publishing today that we had so many turn up looking for alternatives to the chokehold of New York, agents, and waiting years between for a (brief) shot.

Unfortunately I got caught up in conversation and missed the film festival, though I'd promised to make it as one of the VP alums had a short film in it. Dang it!

Met up with Kate Elliott and Andrea H (worked for Netflix for a while, now for a Japanese creative company, an expert on manga--she has a book out on the history of manga that I plan to buy thru an indie bookstore). We had dinner together, our talk ranging from the state of the industry to the French revolution and back to literature and on. They it was time for evening activities. BVC was having a party, but I couldn't find it--I wandered fruitlessly for half an hour, looking, but by then my feet were pretty tired from my long day (I arrived at seven a.m.) and so I came home.

The schedule for LACon is about to go live.

I've been involved since the turn of the year, my focus the writing track. The entire schedule is just about complete, barring last minute disasters. It's jam-packed with activities, including a really robust virtual program. It seems to me that it's the best virtual program of any Worldcon yet, which is possible because the tech has gotten easier.

I find that exciting because that makes it truly a worldcon, rather than a big con for SF people who can afford to travel. I've managed to make it to one maybe two worldcons a decade since the seventies. And never an overseas one, much as I would have liked to be able to afford it.

As for working on the concom, it's been fascinating. I've worked on small cons (Mythcon, when local) but this was my first time behind the scenes on a big one. There was a steep learning curve with the software, but I managed to comprehend enough of it to sort, then work up over 600 suggested panels. Which had to be winnowed down to about two hundred, with a lot of horse trading behind the scenes. After that, participants helped winnow further by volunteering for panels they'd like to sit on, engendering a whole lot more horse trading as things had to be juggled for time slots, matching people's schedules.

But it's there, it's pretty much done, and right on the target date.

The reissue of INDA is today.

I can't express what a relief it is to have the tyops and other messes cleaned up. No doubt one or two escaped, but that can be fixed, now that my rights are back in my hands. Almost twenty years to the day since it first came out; at that time having gay characters as just part of life was pretty rare, especially in main characters, plus an autistic hero. Now I am glad to say there are plenty more out there, yay!


Also, finally, after close on fifteen years, I have Wren Journeymage in print.

I guess DW doesn't permit vids, as I tried to upload a wonderful 24 seconds of the train running alongside a bird drifting down the Hudson. Ah well, try to imagine it!

I had a delightful stay in Montreal (a bit crispy at first, then RAIN, then perfect weather) and another delightful Scintillation. So much book talk! Bought Cameron Reed's new book, What We Are Seeing and Jo Walton's just-about-to-come-out Everybody's Perfect, and for a launch panel discussed Emmet O'Brien's first two books in his Vega Victrix series, which he is publishing AT LAST. (I'd read some of it in draft over the years.)

Let me pause and give some thumbnail thoughs here; indie publishing depends on word of mouth (don't I know it!) and I think this space opera series really deserves it.

Both Your Houses is the first book. This series represents everything I want in space opera: intriguing skiffy balanced with complex characters whose emotions are not overwhelmed by the worldbuilding. Which is quite complex, but we learn about it gradually through Corin Oshima, our first-person narrator. She has a wry voice and a dry wit that makes everything, including info, interesting.

The author chose to keep the focus of this book on a specific case, while gradually widening the lens to afford a glimpse of the larger mystery.

Great alien design is another plus, and plenty of action. Corin is my favorite kind of hero--smart, cool, cognizant of conflicting moral algebra without being a jerk. I don't like jerk main characters; when everyone is a jerk, I lose interest in a story. Corin's story immersed me right from the start.

The second book, Ever Vexed With Storms, carries on from the first book. Don't begin with this one! This is a complex space opera universe and a complex story, though in the first two volumes, the author chose a mission/mystery structure, which provides enough guidepost for the reader to start assimilating the complicated background.

Corin continues to be awesome. I love it when the action catches up with her to see how she gets out of it. There's no "and then she leaped from the pit" cheats. Great aliens, high octane emotional entanglements, and a dry, delicious wit kept me immersed until the last page.

Right now they are only available at Amazon, which--whatever else you can say about them, and there's plen-ty to say--makes it relatively easy for the first timer to upload their work. More platforms will happen, and eventually print.

I got the rights back to my INDA series at last, and I've been like a pig in mud, cleaning up all the errors that I wish had been addressed long ago. It didn't get a professional copyedit, which I desprately need, but of course I'm responsible for the crap prose. Cringe, cringe, cringe. So it' time to address that the best I can, and this time there will be a list of characters, something about the ships, and the CORRECT map. That will happen early next month.

Aside from that, so many beautiful things seen and experienced! And today the homeward trip begins; I'd planned to walk to the train station, using up that four and a half hours between latest hotel checkout and needing to be due at Albany/Rensselaer, but the weather will be eighty. Not sure I want to drag a suitcase almost two miles in 80 temps, with sporadic thunderstorms in the forecast. Rain in June? In SoCal that would be a joke, but back here, it's entirely possible! Anyway so I will find a cafe, and hole up with a book and an iced chai latte instead, and decorously take a Lyft.