Spent most of last weekend in Arlington VA (a city/suburb right next to DC) at the Nebula awards. It was lovely. I knew, via online stuff, more people than I usually know at things like this, and had many a great discussion about craft, the business, and life. It is always great to hang around writers and have those conversations that only writers can have. Here's some of what happened:

I met an astronaut! I felt like everyone should be all super-enthusiastic around him because the dude has been in space! But I think I was the only one who thought that's how you should act around an astronaut.

I followed my pal Rachel Swirsky all over the place and she introduced me to a zillion and a half nice people.

I chatted with my old writing teacher Andy Duncan who is great and I could listen to his southern accent all day long.

I met a bunch of people I only knew online and it's so interesting how my sense of someone instantly changes once I meet them in RT. People are so much more, in real life, you know?

I juggled being a parent and granddaughter while trying to be at the con, and was a little too much all over the place.

I met most of the sweet and talented peeps in my nominated category for novelette, and was thrilled to meet Geoff Ryman, one of my favorite short story writers ever. I was pleasantly surprised when all I felt was happy when he won. I mean, I didn't think I would mind not winning, but you never know until that moment, no? His novelette is stunning.

I got home exhausted and never want to leave home again. What? I'm moving in two months. Ugh.

Got into DC last night and drove through the winding forested freeways that seemed to have tolls every couple of miles. I never remember the air here until I breathe it, how thick and stinky it is. We arrived at my Grandma's house late and melted into the softness of tea and mattresses. It's the first time I've been back here since my Grandpa died, and some things are the same (oatmeal packets on the right of the sink.) And some things feel different. There are piles of mail all over the place and I worry about my stubborn and lovely Grandma being on this side of the coast all by herself. She is fierce and strong, but she's in her late eighties too. Some things fall apart no matter what.

Tomorrow I'll hop over to Crystal City (not a code name for where you buy the meth) to the hotel where the Nebulas will be. I'm always kind of stunned by the blandness of the hotels where SF conventions take place. The lighting and the decor and the walls all seem so anti-future, anti-fantastic to me. I'll be doing a juggling act with Lyra and E., wherein Lyra will be the juggling pin. He has work to do here too, you see. I'll try to make it to things and be friendly and all that.

Oh, and traveling with a toddler? ugh. Though she was such a little trooper. That kid brings her fun with her. The kid teaches me about being in the now every single day. We were in the back of the plane near the stinkazoid bathroom and there was a always a line of people waiting for the toilet but Lyra interpreted that as a new group of people to play with all day long. Wish I could be more like that.

With big love to Laura Jane Grace. And I have a lot more to say about this as far as punk scenes and anarchist scenes and masculinity, as well as sweet and queer and transgressive places within those scenes and how excellent and interesting this is because it's Against Me, but if I had time to write all that then I would have time to write a book and that's not the book I'm writing at the moment.



http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/tom-gabel-of-against-me-comes-out-as-transgender-20120508?link=mostpopular1

Notes from the parenting file:

Went to the toddler sing and read hour at the library yesterday. There was a substitute librarian who seemed so high and she that sang "where is thumb-kin", and when she got to the middle fingers, she told the room she liked to call them "long-man" and then flipped us off and tried to get all the toddlers to do the same. Most the nannies and moms looked kind of embarrassed. I was the only one laughing my head off because I may be in my thirties but I'm also twelve.

I've been breathing the same air with some other writers for the past several days -- Cassie Alexander, Rachel Swirsky, Vylar Kaftan, An Owomoyela, Marguerite Croft, and Christopher Reynaga. They all got more writing done than I did as I was chasing a toddler for some of it, but I really enjoyed the discussions around craft, genre, and the work of writing that we managed to have here and there, as well as industry gossip. I'm always, always up for gossip, should anyone reading this have any questions about such things. There are certain things you can talk to with other writers that make absolutely no sense to anyone else.

I did notice I tend to be contrarian in most writing discussions, not sure why, but maybe because I'm interested in other people defending their positions. Like, we were talking about YA and how it's more than just a teenaged protagonist, and I said well, that's all it is really even though I don't really believe that, probably just to poke at people and see the smart things they said. Or maybe I'm just some sort of a-hole.2

Some of my writing friends will be hanging out over the next couple of days and I expect much silence and tapping, much laughter, much shared insight into the publishing world, and much fun. Huzzah! I'm one of those odd duck writers who doesn't actually like writing around others (I like solitude and routine) so I may be kind of distracty to everyone else.

The inestimable Linda Epstein is letting me blabber at the Blabbermouth today, about the latest hard thing I've been grappling with, writer wise....
http://lindapepstein.wordpress.com/2012/04/30/guest-post-staring-at-the-dragon/

Oddly, I've decided in my WIP, to ask the question in all the places that feel flat, what would Michael Crichton do? No joke. We'll see how it goes.

A package arrived in the mail today with a copy of Beyond Binaries! From Lethe Press! Yay! First off, I'm thrilled because I have a story sandwiched between a Nalo Hopkinson story and an Ellen Kushner story, which, for the record, is the most scrumptious story sandwich around. Second, I've been longing to read this book.

The anthology is full of genderqueer and sexually fluid stories, and I'm hungry to read what different writers have done with that theme, and I'm hungry to read fiction that challenges my own thoughts and ignorance around such themes.

If this sounds like your delicious kind of cup of tea, why not buy it in print or epub?
http://www.lethepressbooks.com/