The first full day of WorldCon dawned bright and early. Very bright, and very early, since Jeanne and I were both still waking up at roughly six o'clock in the morning. The fact that I did this despite spending a good portion of the night out drinking with my friends was somewhat astonishing to everyone involved, and could be taken as proof that I function on some sort of nuclear power source, rather than actual sleep. Our early rising did net us first shower, which was nice, as fixing my hair* takes a long damn time (which is why I so rarely bother to do it). Now socially acceptable, we hit the street in search of a) breakfast, and b) caffeine.

Breakfast was ham and cheese croissants in the food court attached to the casino attached to our hotel. Yeah, I know, I'm stacking on attachments like a professional spammer, but that's apparently the way they roll in Australia. Unless otherwise stated, assume all meals were in the food court attached to the blah blah blah. It was close, convenient, and (by local standards) reasonably priced, and Jeanne and I were both willing to eat there. Pretty much a victory all the way around.

At the convention center, the poor folks at registration were still waiting on their program books, so we went to see Mary Kay Kare and get my Participant Packet instead. It had invites! To Hugo-related functions! This is about when it all started seeming very real to me, and also when I pretty much gave up sleep for the duration. Expect my sanity to degrade rapidly from this point onward.

We wandered the convention, figured out where everything was, and had an unexpected meeting with Lezli Robyn, my fellow Campbell Award nominee. She was incredibly sweet, and I'm very glad to have met her. After touring the dealer's room and the half-assembled art show, I located Jay Lake and Shannon Page on a comfortable couch, and camped there for a bit, because Jay is cuddly and I was warm. Jeanne pointed out that failure to decamp from Jay would mean I got no caffeine before my three o'clock panel on Supernatural. I knew I'd need caffeine for that one. I decamped.

Thank Heaven for 7-11, yo.

The panel went well, despite some early confusion as to what, exactly, we were talking about. The topic was "Breaking the Fourth Wall: Supernatural and Its Audience." Given my opinions on season five, this could have been a blood bath. It was not, largely because polite tourists don't kill people. (At least, that's what Kate says, and everyone I ask says she's right. Conspiracy much?) And that was...well, that was it. That was my only Thursday panel.

Oh, wait. What about my Kaffeeklatsche? You know, that thing where I go and have coffee with anyone who wants to sit and talk to me for an hour? That was still coming up, right? Well, yes, and no. Because somebody told the programming desk that I was sick, you see, and they cancelled my slot. I found this out when someone asked me why, if I was sick, I was hanging out in the hall chatting with my friends. I went down to the front desk and whined until they fixed it. GO TEAM MATURITY. After that, the actual Kaffeeklatsche was fine. People drank coffee (I drank Coke Zero), we talked, and a good time was had by all. Jeanne and I trundled off for dinner, after which I returned to the Hilton to spend several happy hours at Barcon, drinking expensive cocktails and feeling the love. I love the love.

Friday, I spent most of the day idly trundling around and visiting my friends, capping it all off with the moment...the myth...the madness..."Seanan McGuire and Catherynne M Valente In Conversation." Also known as "the Snow White/Lily Fair Variety Show." It was, quite seriously, quantum madness. People asked it, we talked about it. Also, Cat brought the My Little Pony I'd given her to be our moderator while we sat on the edge of the stage and made merry for an hour. Worlds were born. Laws of physics were broken. It was awesome. And we're going to do it again in New York, because that is just how we roll.

After the In Conversation, Jeanne and I decamped to collect John Grace (my audio book publisher), Malcolm (Jeanne's friend), and Phil and Kaja Foglio. We trekked back to the alley for dinner. This time, they bribed us with a free bottle of wine for the table! Score. We got a fabulous table, and spent several hours chatting, eating, splitting appetizers, and generally having a fantastic time. Best WorldCon Friday ever. Even with the rain.

Australia is amazing.

(*Yes, it is actually possible for me to not look like a dandelion on the verge of going to seed. It's crazy, I know, but all things are possible with SCIENCE. And a ceramic straightening iron.)

Australia!

Having had our wacky outback adventure (tm), it was time to turn my attention to more mundane topics, IE, "checking out of the hotel, moving over to our convention hotel, and attending a signing." Yes, a signing. I was supposed to be at the Southlands Dymock's bookstore by mid-afternoon, which was super-fun, especially considering that I had no living clue where that was.

Jeanne and I managed to get packed and out of our first hotel in a reasonable amount of time, after bidding a fond farewell to our newly-familiar surroundings. (Had we been aware that we were also bidding farewell to the only free Internet in the ENTIRE COUNTRY, we might have been a little more tempted to stay where we were. I'm just saying.) Because we are not idiots, we took a cab between hotels. Because our room wasn't ready yet, we checked our bags with the concierge, picked up our taxi vouchers from the front desk (thank you, Orbit!), and were off.

Where were we going? Why, the Westfield Mall. You know. The biggest mall chain on the west coast of the United States. Because that is what every tourist should do. GO TO THE MALL. We found the bookstore, along with a Safeway, and basically every store I would expect to find in a large suburban mall. Humans. We're all essentially the same.

The store manager, Chuck, was truly thrilled to have me, and made a point of getting his picture with me. This is because Chuck is awesome, and his store now has many signed copies of Feed (alas, only my evil twin was represented in the store's stock). We hung out for a few hours, and I got to meet a few awesome people I'd been hoping to meet while in Australia, including Tez. Yay Tez!

Before we left, I bought the UK edition of the latest Pratchett, I Shall Wear Midnight, because that's just how I roll. We had lunch at TGI Friday's, and made our way back to the hotel, where our room was still not ready.

We made our way to the Crowne Plaza to collect our badges. The woman who gave me my badge all but wanted a blood sample, which was...fun. (Seriously, I was like the only person in line asked to produce photo ID. Apparently, my life is very steal-worthy. Who knew?) I ran into several friends, and much hugging happened. We returned to the hotel, where our room was still not ready. Grumble.

Eventually, we were able to get into our room, greeting Jennifer and Jeff with great glee in the process, and then we were out, to have dinner with John (my audio book producer), a bunch of his other clients (including Phil and Kaja, and Cat, all of whom would be very central for me over the course of the weekend), and some awesome last-minute additions: Rob and Mundy. Rob and Mundy made my convention infinitely more awesome, and I am so beyond overjoyed to have met them. Seriously, there are not words. Even if our dinner conversation had rather more circumcision than I was expecting.

After dinner, Jeanne ran off to meet some friends, and I went off with Rob, Cat, and Mundy, to crash someone's cocktail birthday party. Cat and I wound up sitting on the cool veranda overlooking downtown Melbourne, sipping rum cocktails made with pomegranate liqueur, and going "Holy shit, this is our real life."

Maybe it's worth stealing after all.

10. It's Friday! And that means that tomorrow is Saturday, which further means that it's finally time for me to have a book event at the Other Change of Hobbit! Conveniently located next to Ashby BART, spacious, and full of neat things, this is one of my favorite bookstores. You should totally come.

9. Karen Healey (I know, right?) has a poll for the best moment of WorldCon 2010/Aussiecon IV, and yes, my squeaky acceptance of the Campbell Award is currently in the lead. Which is the sort of thing that makes me blink and cry a little. But in the good way, I promise! Also, John Scalzi licking stuff.

8. After our horrible "oh crap the house is full of fleas" experience this summer, everything seems to have settled down. Alice's belly-fur is growing back, no one's trying to claw their own flesh off, and our strict regimen of flea powdering the carpets and pouring poison on the cats is keeping the blood-suckers away. Thank the Great Pumpkin.

7. SHARKTOPUS! Tomorrow night on SyFy! Because Coyote loves me and wants me to be happy.

6. By the same measure, have you seen Jane Austin's Fight Club? Because seriously, this video is love. (Technically safe for work, if you're allowed to watch videos at work and feel like doing some potentially awkward explaining about why all those girls are smacking the crap out of each other.)

5. Resident Evil: Afterlife actually doesn't suck. I know, I'm as surprised as you are. Sort of tickled, too, but mostly just surprised. It's not as good as Resident Evil: Apocalypse, but then, what is?

4. Jean Grey is still dead.

3. Things that are back on the air: Glee, Fringe, Big Bang Theory, Bones, and America's Next Top Model. Things that have managed to stick the landing in their season finales: Rizzoli and Isles, Leverage, Unnatural History, and Warehouse 13. Things that make me happy: watching too much television.

2. Despite my currently perennially delayed posting schedule (curse you, Australia, and your lack of Internet), the latest iteration of the Traveling Circus and Snake-Handling Show went well, and we all had a fantastic time. Plus, the bookstore now has signed books, and that makes everything wonderful.

...and the best thing about today...

1. Welcome to fall.

What's awesome about your Friday?

For our second full day in Australia, Jeanne and I had signed up for a Walkabout Tour, along with David Levine and Kate Yule (two of the many, many people I met at World Fantasy in 2009). The tour was run by Echidna Walkabout, and started obscenely early in the morning, with a friendly woman named Janine coming to pick us up from the hotel. Janine wore the media-standard Australian leather bush hat. Hers was the only one I saw on an actual head during our trip.

"Are you Seanan?" she asked, after Jeanne and I got into her van. I affirmed that I was. "I thought you'd be a bloke!"

"I get that a lot," I said.

We drove around Melbourne picking up the rest of our party (hi, Kate and David!), including a bunch of cheery, chattery ladies from Tennessee, and then we were off for the You Yangs, where we would see, presumably, wild koalas doing wild koala things. On the way, we were treated to an enormous cornucopia of Australian birds, including my new personal favorite, the Australian magpie. This is a magpie that is not fucking around. It doesn't just have patches of white, oh, no, it is a white-out FACTORY, and it is COMING FOR YOUR EYES. (Also of note, the magpie lark, which is a third the size, very similar in coloring, sings duets, and will peck the holy crap out of you if you get too close.)

After we'd been driving for a while, Janine pulled into a field so we could look at HOLY CRAP PARROTS. Just THERE. Being WILD PARROTS. Dude, what the FUCK, Australia? There were also a few magpies around, so I wandered off to take pictures of them. "Seanan ignores the ostensibly interesting wildlife to photograph magpies" was a big theme of the day.

Once everyone had finished flipping out over the parrots, we got back in the van and finished driving to the You Yangs. On the way in, one of the chattery ladies spotted a swamp wallaby. The van was stopped. I spotted a second swamp wallaby. Janine was delighted. The ladies were delighted. Everyone was delighted! I found a guide to the native spiders of the area. Everyone was less delighted, probably because of my well-voiced desire to become the Spider Queen and lead my arachnid minions to victory.

We were met in the eucalyptus grove by Mary, the koala guide, who had been koala scouting to make sure we'd actually see some. Since koalas don't move much, she wasn't that concerned that the koalas would have gone anywhere, and we went hiking off into the brush. Koalas are boring. They sit, very high, and do nothing. It's like staring at shelf fungus that will pee on you if you get too close. I quickly lost interest in koalas, and started picking things up off the forest floor. "Things" included feathers (two of which went in Janine's hat), eggshells, interesting rocks, and pieces of bone. I am a dangerous individual when bored.

We drove on to an inordinately large rock called, reasonably enough, Big Rock. We climbed Big Rock. This was fun for me. Not so much, maybe, for the Tennessee ladies. Sorry, Tennessee ladies. Janine fed us all gum, like, from a gum tree. Janine is the devil.

Next up: lunch, served in a lovely little picnic hut in Serendip Sanctuary. It included sandwiches, fruit, biscuits (tim tams!), and outback tea, made with fresh gum leaves. I did not drink the tea. Everyone else drank the tea. Everyone else is CLEARLY INSANE, and I say this as the woman who went to AUSTRALIA to look for SPIDERS.

Now fortified, we went to finish the tour, and look at kangaroos. It turns out kangaroos don't much like being looked at. You have to sneak up on them (totally easy when you're a large group of people, most of whom don't spend much time outdoors), stay quiet, and look at them through binoculars. And then, when they inevitably notice you, you get to watch them boing boing boing away. Super-fun. The kangaroos were boring. The many varieties of giant flesh-ripping ant were not. Neither were the echidna scrapes, the big orange bugs, the entire denuded emu skeleton, or—best thing ever—the dead kangaroo. Oh, the dead kangaroo. Its flesh had been picked away by meat ants, and I was able to truly study its structure. Plus, there was a spider inside its skull. Thank you, Australia. I love you, too.

(Upon discovering the dead kangaroo, I hankered down to study it and take pictures. Our guide gamely tried to make this educational, and not get upset about the fact that the crazy Californian was way more interested in the dead kangaroo than in the live ones. Thank you, Janine. You were awesomely tolerant.)

With rain imminent and everyone exhausted, we made one last stop, at a billabong completely filled with birds. Black swans! So cool! Then it was back to Melbourne proper, passing kangaroos, swamp wallabys, and dozens of magpies on the way. Janine asked us about pie (apparently, cherry pie is viewed as a cruel joke in Australia, where cherries cost eighteen dollars a kilo during the off-season). We answered as best we could, until at last, we were back at our hotel, and could collapse for a little while before heading back to the alley for dinner.

I had lamb. Holy crap, lamb in Australia is like a religious experience. Welcome to the First Church of Mary's Little Lamb, please pass the sweet potato mash.

It was a very good day. Even without spiders.

Did you miss the latest iteration of the Traveling Circus and Snake-Handling Show? Do you like your events a little more low-key? Do you want to hang out and get things signed? Well, you're in luck on all three counts, because I will be at the Other Change of Hobbit in Berkeley, California this Saturday, from five to seven PM.

Yes, I will read; yes, I will sign; yes, I will answer silly questions. Yes, there may well be music, because I am me, and it is borderline inevitable that there will be music when I go around being me in a public place. Yes, I hope to see you there.

Book events are fun!

When last I left this incredibly delayed trip report, Jeanne and I had managed (finally) to touch down in Melbourne, following an unplanned jaunt to Sydney (during which we were not permitted to leave the plane). After fleeing the airport, we caught a bus to a bus terminal, where we caught another bus to our initial destination, the Hotel Promenade. We were going to be staying there for the first few days, before transferring to the WorldCon hotel block to join our fannish compatriots.

Since neither of us really wanted to be jet lag's bitch for the duration of our vacation, we basically went to the hotel, dropped everything off, and left, heading out into the wonderful world of Australia. Goal: stay awake until a reasonable bedtime. Jeanne, being foolish, allowed me to pick our activity...and that, o best beloveds, is how we wound up spending the better part of an hour walking pointedly toward the distant glories of Victoria Market. Jeanne has gone walking with me before, and understands that a) I think of anything under five miles as "a little ways," and b) I will always know how to get back to where I started. So she felt just fine following me around Melbourne, which is probably for the best.

Wonderful discovery the first: 7-11 has come to Australia. And while a chain store may not be your idea of a wonderful discovery, I consider anything that gives me cold fizzy caffeine to be an absolute miracle. There is no Diet Dr Pepper in Australia, but Coke Zero is an acceptable substitute. Luckily for everyone's survival.

Wonderful discovery the second: on the way to Victoria Market, we found a little alley that contained a) an Indian place that fed me delicious goat curry, and b) a chocolate place that made insanely decadent and delicious drinking chocolate. These calories would see us through the rest of our journey.

On! To Victoria Market! Where we looked at things ranging from the standard "rook a tourist, win a prize" assortments known to markets the world over all the way to Australian opals and wonderful handmade children's toys. I bought a mobile with pirates on it for Brooke's upcoming spawn. Jeanne bought some opals. Both of us agreed that the local seagulls were awesome, and that it was time to walk back to the hotel.

On leaving, we found a pet store with a large reptile selection, and Jeanne tolerantly allowed me to go in and coo at all the adorable snakes and lizards. Because that's just how we roll.

Walking back down Elizabeth St. allowed us to stop at multiple shops that had interested us on the way to the Market, including Minotaur, a science fiction specialty shop that felt sort of like the Australian answer to Forbidden Planet. They didn't have any Toby books, but they did have several copies of Feed, which I gleefully signed. Yay for signings! They seemed rather stunned to have a genuine American author in the store scribbling on things, but didn't ask for ID, which is good, as I don't have any ID for Mira.

We returned to the hotel, ate in the restaurant (decent, not great, but definitely filling), and went to bed early, only to awaken equally early. Like, "before six o'clock." Oops. We got up, found breakfast, and started our day of killer attack tourism. Destination one: the Melbourne Aquarium.

Now, I could say lots of things about the natural beauty of Australia's natural wildlife, or the cheekiness of eels, or the fact that holy crap, manta rays can apparently be as big as minivans. I could mention the giant lionfish, and go on at great length about the penguins. But I won't. Why? Because HOLY CRAP BEST OCTOPUS EVER. Seriously, their Giant Pacific Octopus renewed my faith in the universe. Poor Jeanne had to keep coming back and hauling me away from the tank, and my octopus communion. He was a rockin' and a rollin', and I wanted nothing more than to stay with him all day.

Alas, it was not to be. Farewell, sweet octopus. We lunched on pumpkin and potato pizza (not kidding), and went in search of the local Lush, since Jeanne needed conditioner. I know, I know, tourism, we're doin' it wrong. Still, when we found the store, we discovered that Australia got exclusive shower gel, and I claimed a bottle of Black Pearl in the name of AWESOME. Between that and the octopus, I was a happy, happy girl. Jeanne also got a local phone, since she's smart that way.

We returned to the hotel to drop off our things before we went looking for dinner, which was really the capper on our awesome day, because we discovered—quite by accident—An Alley of Wonders. Lots of little restaurants, all of them competing for the right to feed us dinner. We settled on a place that gave us free sodas and served me kangaroo steak, since I had to eat it at least once. It tasted sort of like a cross between goat and rabbit.

Australia: awesome so far.

Australia!

On Friday, August 27th, I left work to head for Kate's house, since she (and her wonderful car) was going to get me to the airport. My flight, I said, left at eight, so I needed to be there at six. I was quite confident on this point. There will be more on this later.

Even after driving to Concord, packing the last of my things, brushing the cats in a guilty "please don't hate me for leaving you" manner, and stopping at Sweet Tomatoes for dinner, we got me to the airport by four. Being the sort of person who'd rather be horrifyingly early than five minutes late, I was cool with this, hugged Kate, and went to check in with the calm serenity of one who is four hours early for their flight. Everything went without a hitch, including security, which was a glorious wasteland, free of congestion. Things were looking up.

Jeanne was already at the gate when I got there. "Wow, you're early," I said. She gave me a funny look.

"I'm two hours early for our flight," she replied.

"...what?" Apparently, I had been basing my internal flight time off the time we would be arriving in LAX for our transfer. Because sometimes, yes, I am very, very blonde. Coyote was clearly already getting involved in the trip; that's the first time I have ever made a mistake like that about flight times.

The first flight was relatively painless (I slept the whole way, which always helps), and our luggage was checked all the way through to Melbourne. So we located our gate, confirmed that there was no way for Qantas to shuffle things to seat us together, and then adjourned to the airport bar to make offerings to Coyote in the form of overpriced cocktails. Hooray for an excellent Mai Tai!

On the plane (a new Air Bus the size of an entire wing at my high school), we were seated literally sixty rows apart, so we bid each other a fond farewell and went to our respective homes for the next seventeen hours. Now, the nice thing about the Qantas Air Bus is the self-serve mini-bar between each section of the plane. They don't contain alcohol, thankfully, as an entire plane of drunk tourists would suck, but they do contain a nigh-infinite supply of Diet Coke. I drank a lot of Diet Coke. I also slept, a lot, and watched several movies, including Iron Man 2, which no one had been willing to see with me in the theater. Hooray for trans-Pacific flights!

Blah blah blah, time passes, blah blah blah, airplane food, blah blah, landing! In...Sydney. Because, see, Melbourne? Was enshrouded with fog, preventing us from landing, and after flying from California, we didn't have the fuel to circle. So we had to divert to another city altogether, which delighted the flight crew to no end. (It actually did delight the rest of my row, as they'd been going to Sydney, and were allowed to deplane. With their luggage. Lucky bastards.)

Eventually, we got back into the air, and were able to fly, finally, to Melbourne, where we had to go through Customs. First question on the card they make you fill out, no shit, was, "Are you carrying any weapons, illegal drugs, or prescription medications?" So the first question I was asked by the Australian Customs Agent was which of these things I had. I replied that I had legal medications. Also food. She sent me to Quarantine, while Jeanne went off to not be Quarantined.

At Quarantine, I was asked, "What kind of food are you carrying?"

Honesty is the best policy with Customs: "A pound of chocolates and five pounds of candy corn."

Blink. "What's candy corn?"

"Honey, mallow, and canuba wax."

"How much is five pounds?"

"I don't know. Two and a half kilos?"

She blinked again, and then waved to the door. "Just go."

Jeanne, meanwhile, was being poked and prodded to confirm that she wasn't secretly smuggling strawberries in her pants. The moral of our story is? Carry confusing candy.

Australia!

Have you always wanted to attend one of my book events? Well, here's your chance!

The Traveling Circus will be reuniting this Saturday, September 18th, for a gala bash at Borderlands Books in San Francisco, California! Festivities will commence at five, and continue until nine, by which point the bookstore will have had more than enough of us, and will doubtless shovel us all out into the street.

Will there be music? Yes, there will be music. With Amy McNally, Michelle Dockrey, Betsy Tinney, SJ Tucker, and Brooke Lunderville in attendance, music has become unavoidable. The musicians will be back in the bookstore this time, leaving the cafe open for the consumption of delicious, delicious beverages, and even more delicious food.

Will there be a raffle? Yes, there will be a raffle. Awesome prizes are being prepared as we speak, tucked into their box with care as we get ready for the big night. All attendees will get a raffle ticket automatically; get another ticket by making a purchase at either the bookstore or the cafe (three tickets per person, maximum).

Will there be cake? Yes, there will be cake. It's Toby's one-year publication "birthday," and cake makes every birthday better.

Will there be pendants? Yes, there will be pendants. chimera_fancies will be in attendance, with a never-before-seen batch of pendants created from an ARC of An Artificial Night. They're some of her best work to date, and will be available for sale throughout the evening. Seriously, you don't want to miss these.

Remember that, if you can't attend, Borderlands is happy to take requests for signed and personalized books, and I'd be thrilled to sign a book to be mailed to you. They have all three Toby books, Feed, The Living Dead 2, and—the last time I checked—one of the last remaining retail copies of Ravens in the Library. So show up if you can, and consider placing an order if you can't!

This message bought and paid for by The Traveling Circus and Snake-Handling Show, LLC.

1. I am in Australia.

1a. I am in Melbourne, Australia.

2. I have found a lovely Indian place that fed me goat, and a place with hot cocoa so good it made Jeanne shaky.

3. We are about to go to the aquarium to see squids.

3a. And penguins.

4. I miss you all, but I am in Australia, so it isn't really bothering me very much.

5. See you soon.

Well, here we go: I am now officially 90% of the way packed for my trip to Australia. My suitcases zip with relative ease. I still need to load up my thumb drive, since The Big Laptop isn't making the journey with me, and I have a few CDs scheduled to be delivered later this week that I'm really hoping to get onto my iPod before I fly, but that's about it. It's all dumping out my purse and finding my spare laptop battery from here.

It's weird to sit here and realize that in forty-eight short hours, I will be on a plane, about to land in Los Angeles, where I'll get on a second plane and begin the long journey to Melbourne. Because it's a night flight, I'll probably sleep for the first five or so hours, then wake up, blink groggily, and start working. That's just what I do on planes. (You think I'm kidding. I point to Exhibit A, Chasing St. Margaret. It's a romantic comedy. About jetlag. I wrote it, primarily, on my flight from San Francisco to London, and finished it on the flight from London to San Francisco. Because I am bitchin' productive when I'm several thousand feet up in the air.)

I have wanted to visit Australia since I knew there was an Australia to visit. To be quite honest, for a long time, I wanted to move there, until I realized a) my friends would miss me, b) quarantine would be hell on the cats, and c) Australia's immigration laws mean I couldn't move anyway. So visiting will have to be enough. I'm a little scared and a little excited and a little totally ready to be on my way, because seriously, I have no attention span and no brain left. It's sad, except for the part where it's funny for people who aren't me.

I will come back with wonderful stories and probably a sunburn, souvenirs, memories, and the strong desire to sleep for a week. Hey, who knows—maybe I'll even come back with a tiara. That'd sure make my mother happy.

Two days to Australia. That's too soon; that's nowhere near soon enough.

I leave for Australia in a week, and WorldCon is two weeks away. You know what that means? SCHEDULE TIME! Here are my programmed events, allowing for easier stalking through the city of Melbourne. (I'm not worried about actual stalkers. By the time we reach the convention, I intend to have assembled my army of spiders.)

Thursday, September 2nd, 3:00 PM: Breaking the Fourth Wall: Supernatural and Its Audience. Given my thoughts on how things went down with Jo and Ellen, this should be a super-fun panel, in the "bring plastic sheeting and pray" sense.

Thursday, 5:00 PM: Kaffeeklatsche. For those of you who have never encountered this strange creature before, basically, I will sit in a room at five on Thursday, and talk to anyone who shows up. Also, there will be coffee. If no one shows up, I will do lots of lovely inking. It's a win-win scenario for me.

Friday, September 3rd, 4:00 PM: Seanan McGuire and Catherynne M Valente In Conversation. Who is driving? Bear is driving! HOW CAN THIS BE?! Cat and I will spend the better part of an hour talking writing, editing, and whatever else comes into our heads. It's the Snow White/Lily Fair Variety Show, and you should totally be there.

Saturday, September 4th, 11:00 AM: Capes and Skirts: The Plight of Female Superheroes. Lo, we are going to sit and talk about female superheroes, why they are awesome, and why they don't get as much love as their male counterparts. This is the best convention schedule ever.

Saturday, 1:00 PM: Fringe: Paranormal Investigations in SF Television. Man, we are gonna tear. This. Up. It's going to be a super-awesome panel full of super-awesomeness, and you should totally come, and I will do my best to avoid discussions of Peter Bishop's fabulous ass.

Saturday, 3:00 PM: What is Filk? This is a fairly standard panel, but a very good one to attend if you want to learn more about filk, what it is, and why we're doing it in your hotel lobby. Not that we do that anymore. Much.

Saturday, 4:00 PM: Signing. I will sign stuff. Super-exciting.

Sunday, September 5th, 3:00 PM: YA Urban Fantasy. Why YA urban fantasy? What's the attraction? What makes it awesome? Let's discuss.

Sunday, 5:00 PM: Post-Apocalyptic YA. Boom, baby. Boom.

Following this panel, I will be going insane for the rest of the night while I deal with getting ready for and attending the Hugos. Please do not blame me for anything I say during this time, although really, I'm expecting the majority of my dialog to consist of "The Turtle couldn't help us" and quotes from Penny Arcade.

Monday, September 6th, 2:00 PM: Reading. What will I be reading? Only the Great Pumpkin knows. I'll figure it out based on who shows up...and if no one shows up, again, inking. It's good to have a backup plan.

Item the first: I have updated my website appearances. Go, view, and learn where I'm going to be. I have confirmed appearances in Australia, New York, California, and Oregon. Which brings me to...

Item the second: I am delighted and honored to announce that I have been selected as the Friends of Filk Guest for OryCon 32. This year's theme is "the Darker Side of Fantasy," which is something I feel I can work with quite well. I'll be appearing with Vixy and Tony, which always makes me happy, and maybe I'll even have a brand new album by then! The convention will be held in Portland, Oregon, from November 12th through the 14th. I hope you can make it, if it's even remotely local to you.

Item the third: If you ever feel the need to quit your job, this is pretty much the way to do it. Style, a sense of humor, and a great way of making your point. (I do wonder what kind of reference she's going to get, but...) Just don't read the comments. The sexism can get a little scary at certain points. But the facial expressions are twenty miles beyond awesome.

Item the fourth: This is what you've all been waiting for, which is a large part of why I've been keeping you in suspense. I'd say that I was sorry, but you'd all know that I was lying through my teeth. So instead, I shall say LOOK! SHINY! Much more effective.

Icons and Wallpapers for An Artificial Night have been posted on my site.

Tara has really outdone herself with this latest batch, and I am absolutely enthralled by her graphic awesome. Some will make more sense after you've read the book, but they're all fantastic now. Go, look, take, have, and join the flailing excitement as you realize...book three is ALMOST HERE.

Gleh.

Having barely returned home (the cats are still in a state of high dudgeon; Lilly evicted the contents of my daily carry-bag last night and inserted herself in their place, assuming I wouldn't notice that a Siamese is not a dayplanner), it is now time for me to depart again, this time for the wilds of Washington. Will I be visiting my Vixy? I will not. Will I be visiting the Tinneys? I will not. Will I be picking blackberries? Great Pumpkin willing, yes, I will.

But what I'll mainly be doing is attending Spocon as their Music Guest of Honor! Along with Author Guest of Honor Tanya Huff and Artist Guest of Honor Michael Whelan, I am coming to rock your socks off through the powers of song, story, and, um...interpretive dance. I am assured that my Muppet-like flailing is very much like interpretive dance of the Cthulhu mythos, so that works.

But seriously, I fly out later this afternoon. I still need to pack, since laundry didn't happen until last night, and I need to figure out whether I'm checking a bag or not, since I need to bring The Big Computer to handle editorial revisions. But these are small things compared to "I am getting on another plane." Whee!

Brooke is going to be rooming with me at the convention, and she and Char MacKay have been drafted to provide stunt musical accompaniment (yay). Brooke is incubating a parasite right now, which is relevant to my interests, as it means that she now goes to bed as early as I do. Also, to quote Brooke's blog:

"Seanan AND Tanya will be guests there, which I've heard means they will combine in to some kind of 12-foot tall DAW super-robot with lasers! Publishing is a dangerous business. For innocent bystanders."

Come see the super-robot! We are less likely to crush you or incinerate your home if you say hello and buy our books.

I'm just saying.

So before we get too far from the convention, a few high (and low) points of San Diego 2010. Because otherwise, y'all will beat me with bricks in a dark alley somewhere, and I just don't have time for that.

This year, I was able to import Tara and Amy (webmistress and fiddler, respectively), and the three of us shared a room with Sunil (media madman) at the Gaslamp Marriott. Not only were we less than a five minute walk from the convention center, allowing us to easily drop things off in our room, but the hotel gave us free candy. Right there at the front desk, free candy. Amy and I decided that we were having the convention experience we would have designed for ourselves at age seven. Except for the drinking, this was probably true for the entire weekend.

Rebecca and Ryan were kind enough to pick me up from the airport; after they dropped me off, Amy and I went to get our badges while the car went back for Tara and Sunil (landing two hours later than I did). Hilarity and admission followed. Tara went off to hang with her friends, while Sunil, Amy, and I went to see an improv performance by Hammer Don't Hurt 'Em. They were decent, and the show was fun (especially since Amy got me a Long Island Iced Tea). The only real downside was Sunil accidentally ditching us while we were in the bathroom, but we went and met Rebecca and Ryan for Wendy's, so there was really no bad there.

Thursday was my first panel, The Power of Myth, which was a lot of fun, as was the signing which followed. I gave Amber Benson a copy of An Artificial Night, which she thanked me for, as now she would not be required to steal it. Tara, Amy, and I had lunch with Tanya Huff at the Cafe Diem, because the Cafe Diem is awesome. I also shopped. A lot. I enjoy shopping. I got a White Phoenix Jean Gray doll for my cover designer at Orbit, because I believe in bribery, yo. It was fun!

Thursday evening, Tanya, Tara, and I attended the Brilliance Audio author dinner, which I spent drinking Mai Tais, eating interesting things, and chatting with Phil and Kaja Foglio. My life, so hard.

Friday was my booth signing at Orbit, during which I signed a hundred copies of Feed. In the process, I drew ninety-nine tiny chainsaws, and one tiny Godzilla destroying a city. Again, my life, so hard. I had to miss the X-Men panel to do the signing (wah!), but I was able to attend the panel on James Gunn's Super (he needs to call me), which looks totally awesome. I had a second signing at the SFX booth later in the afternoon, and we gave away another fifty copies of Feed, one to the creator of Being Human. Totally awesome.

Friday evening, Tanya, Amy, and I attended the Penguin FangFest, which I spent drinking pineapple mojitos, eating cupcakes, and chatting with awesome authors. I finally met Charlaine Harris in the flesh, and it was hysterical. Exchange as follows:

Me: "Hi, it's great to finally meet you. I'm Seanan."
Charlaine: *politely blank look*
Me: *displays name tag*
Charlaine: "SHAWN-ANNE!"

*hugging*

I love having a weird name. After that, we went to the Boom! party, where I met Paul Cornell and his lovely wife, Caroline. Paul is one of my favorite humans, as he shares my love of the Black Death and giant flesh-eating lizards. I'm just saying.

Saturday was my second panel, The Rise of Zombie Fiction, which was a) mad fun, and b) reinforced my desire to write up a handbook for people doing panels at this sort of thing. Priscille from Books for Boobs came to the signing in a perfect Delirium costume, and I tried to eat her plush bear. Amy and I managed to catch the Warehouse 13 panel (Allison Scagliotti for Georgia Mason, anybody?), and then went off to dinner with John Grace at a very nice steak house. They served me port. MY LIFE, SO HARD.

Sunday, it was goodbyes and final shopping runs, and Tara and I had breakfast with Paul and Caroline before Amanda and Michael came to carry me away.

It was a good con. This writeup does not include hiding behind Anton, getting awesome swag and buttons from Rae, lots of hugging, accidental soda-based encounters, the dissolution of the Sacred Order of the Deli, ice cream, Gini Koch, late-night sammiches with Tanya, awesome dealer's room finds, free books, cheap books, expensive books, cookies, the art show, or repeat encounters with Felicia Day. But it does include a lot of awesome.

Also, if anyone came away from the con with a spare Sanctuary T-shirt, I am open to trades. Just saying.

Looking for something to do tomorrow? Wondering what mischief you could possibly get up to? Longing for spooky stories, creepy environs, naked cats, and cupcakes? Well, your potentially haunted ship is sailing into harbor, because tomorrow (July 17th) is the second, and final, stop on the Murder and Mayhem Tour.

Jennifer Brozek (Murder) and I (Mayhem) will be appearing at Borderlands Books from 3:00 PM until we get bored and wander away. Jennifer will be reading selections from her new book, In A Gilded Light, while I'll be reading from "Sparrow Hill Road." To quote Jennifer:

"Together, Murder and Mayhem will read excerpts from their fiction, tell tales out of school and generally have a good time."

Also, there will be cupcakes.

Seriously, though, we'll be signing books, answering questions, and generally having a lovely time, and we'd love to have you. There's also a chance that I'll have copies of Mischief (the new SJ Tucker album), if they reach me in time.

See you there!

Now is the time on Sprockets where I take my suitcase, my passport, my train tickets, and my mother, and head to the San Francisco International Airport. From there, we will fly to Los Angeles, and I will spend the weekend as ConChord's Guest of Honor/Westercon's Music Guest of Honor. Yay!

Since I'm about to leave you to your own devices for the entire weekend, I thought I should bribe you to play nicely with, well, the world. Here's Lilly, being...dignified:



The Siamese, ladies and gentlemen. Nature's most dignified feline.

Yeah. Right. Have fun!

The other day, I was in Safeway—buying Diet Dr Pepper, naturally—when I heard the guy up ahead of me say something to his friends that I was positive I must have misheard. Specifically, what I heard him say was "and there's this really awesome parasitic wasp that drives its victims like cars." Now, I like parasitic wasps. I am, one might say, unduly fascinated by parasitic wasps. So I tend to assume that when I hear other people bring them up in conversation, I'm hearing them wrong.

I began shamelessly eavesdropping...and wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, he was talking about insect parasitism! Yay! As the conversation swung toward blood flukes, I interjected to note that blood flukes were probably largely responsible for the evolution of gendered reproduction. He looked, in a word, delighted.

What followed was the largest, rowdiest, happiest discussion of parasite behavior I have ever been involved with outside of a group of my friends. All five of the people involved had read Parasite Rex, and parthenogentic reproduction came up, gleefully.

I think I may have met my male equivalent from a nearby parallel dimension.

I'm just saying.

Item the first: I have run the random number generator against the latest ARC contest, and saladofdoom is our winner. saladofdoom, you have until Sunday, July 4th, to contact me with your mailing information. (This is longer than I usually give, but I'm about to head for Westercon, so I'm not going to be checking mail reliably for a few days.) I can also just bring your book with me when I come up to Seattle next weekend. Let me know your preference, and it shall be done.

Item the second: Yesterday morning, I saw a single crow sitting on the telephone pole next to the bus stop, watching me. "One for sorrow," I thought, and followed it up with, "But where's the sorrow?" Immediately, a car drove through a puddle that shouldn't have been there, it being, you know, July, and spattered me with lukewarm water. The message is clear: do not taunt the crow oracle, yo. You will not enjoy the results one little bit.

Item the third: The editorial revisions of Late Eclipses are barreling merrily along, and reminding me once again that there's a reason we do multiple passes on these things. So far, I've found an appearing/disappearing jacket, an appearing/disappearing car, a totally misnamed architectural feature, and a chunk of dialog that seriously read like it had been pasted in from another book. Thank the Great Pumpkin for the editorial process.

Item the fourth: My mother came by last night with my sister and her wife in tow. They have once again absconded with a very large sack of books, because I am the family lending library. I treated them to the hysterical spectacle that is Alice trying to get me to give her wet food, because I am a cruel, heartless lending library. (Their favorite part was when I picked her up, and she tried to swim through the air to the bowl.) It was nice to see them, even if it did mean I had to save the second half of this week's Leverage for tonight.

Item the fifth: I am watching the second half of this week's Leverage tonight.

Item the sixth: I should have some very concrete information about Wicked Girls super-soon, and it's really shaping up to be amazing. I love working with Kristoph, and I love all the material on this album. Both of my cover songs have been approved ("Tanglewood Tree" and "Writing Again"), and since I wrote the other fourteen, I'm not particularly concerned. I'm so pleased with this whole process. Life is good.

Item the seventh: My dreams last night featured a tank of lionfish that wanted snuggles, two connected houses in a suburb of San Francisco that managed to look exactly like Concord, buying new luggage, trying to fly to Australia while balancing on a bathroom railing, taking a nap, and a visit to the tiara store. I'm reasonably sure this was a big ol' anxiety dream about Australia and the Campbell Award, but I woke up going "awwwwwwwww, cutest lionfishes ever." This proves that not even my own brain is very good at upsetting me.

What's new with you?

It's easy to forget sometimes, given the natural impulses to focus on the negative aspects of the world around us, that people can be inherently decent. (This ties into something I've been pondering, involving Monkeyspheres and the nature of social formations, but it's also its own thing, in isolation, which is why I'm bringing it up right now.) I mean, we're all horrible human beings at some point or other, but we're also capable of being really good people. Case in point:

I don't generally carry any cash with me. It's a combination of factors, the most pressing of which is probably "I am a slightly vacant-looking blonde woman with a real fondness for the sort of trail often featured in classic horror movies." I've never been mugged, and I'd really rather not start any time soon, so I make a point of having as little money on me as possible. It's fun! This does, however, put me at a bit of a disadvantage when people looking for a cup of coffee ask me if I have any change, since "No, for sociological reasons" doesn't make much sense without the context.

Some days, I head straight to the office in the morning. Other days, I stop by the 7-11 near the Montgomery Street BART Station, where I can obtain a Double-Big Gulp of Diet Dr Pepper to get me through the morning. Despite the fact that it's June and should be, I don't know, summer, it was misting lightly, resulting in instant chilly dampness. Peh.

As I walked toward the 7-11, a man sitting on the sidewalk asked, "If you have any change when you come out, could you maybe help me get some breakfast?" He was hugging his dog. It was a good dog, brown and tan and cold-looking, but good. I like dogs.

"I'll see what I can do," I said, and went inside.

About five minutes later, I came out with my soda, a large coffee, a bunch of sugar and creamer packets (I never got the hang of fixing other people's coffees), an egg-on-croissant sandwich, and the biggest cinnamon bun they had, on the theory that he could, I don't know, give whatever he wanted to the dog. As I emerged, a little girl was petting the dog, and he was reassuring her mother that he'd never ask a kid for money just to pet his dog. The kid and her mother left. I walked over.

"I brought you breakfast," I said, and started handing him food.

He was very pleased—who doesn't like food?—and asked my name. I told him. His name was Dave (the dog was Daisy). Smiles all around...and then, as I was turning to head for work, he waved to another homeless gentleman, this one older, thinner, and sitting back against a doorway to stay out of the wet, and asked what was probably the best pair of questions I'll hear all day:

"Hey, you hungry? You want to share my breakfast?"

Sometimes the human race is fundamentally decent, even when it's hungry, damp, and sitting on a San Francisco sidewalk.

It's gonna be a pretty good day.

Every year, as July approaches, someone says to me "Gosh, I've never been to the San Diego International Comic Convention before. I really don't believe it's as big as everybody tries to make me think it is." So every year, I smack myself in the head and update this guide and pray for their survival. Since I've been known to post obsessively-detailed Guides to Comicon on a yearly basis for some time now, I strongly suspect that these people are being aimed at me. But since I love you all (those of you I know, anyway; I am well-inclined by mildly indifferent towards those of you who just came in out of the cold), and want you to have the best convention experience that you possibly can, I've prepared an update to my Handy-Dandy Comicon Survival Guide. See? It's both handy and dandy, and that means it must be good! This guide includes tips on:

* Reaching the convention alive.
* Getting a hotel room.
* Enjoying/surviving the con.
* Things to do at the con.
* Eating food.
* Staying healthy and sane.
* Not getting killed by your friends.
* Budgeting.
* Bathing.

It is also heavily biased toward my own opinions on all these things, because hello, so totally me. But I'm honest about my biases, and I'll be factual whenever it's fact, rather than opinion. (In short, don't expect me to falsify hotel room rates to suit my own ideas of "fair," but don't expect me to recommend a good Thai place, either.)

Ready? Okay!

( Click here for Seanan's handy-dandy Comicon survival guide! Read and be enlightened in all the ways that matter, which is to say, all the ways that Seanan actually thought of. Freshly updated for 2010.Collapse )

Yesterday afternoon, at the request of my/Mira Grant's publisher, I took my little FlipVideo camera and my little clicky-flashy digital camera down to Cups and Cakes Bakery to document the process of making the famous BRAIN CUPCAKES. Because, well, it seemed like a good way to kill an hour or two. The bakery is closed on Tuesdays, so Tuesday was the best time to have a slightly off-kilter author come in and point cameras at things. It was fun!

I am aware that this thread is useless without pics. Pics will be coming soon, although the odds are reasonably high that they will be posted, not here, but on the Orbit website. Why? Because dude, brain cupcakes. Also, that way Orbit has to do the video hosting, not me. I like things that lead to other people doing the video hosting. Things that lead to other people doing the video hosting are keen.

It turns out, by the way, that people are a lot less willing to accept random cupcakes from a random stranger when those random cupcakes look like tiny frosting brains. This is more of a sign of a survival instinct than I usually see from the human race these days, so I'm going to take it as a good thing. It probably didn't help that I looked bone-tired while offering the tiny brains to people, which created an overall air of "zombie pastry chef" that can't possibly have appealed to the public at large. Many of my friends, sure, but the public at large, not so amazingly much.

I love the simplicity of these tiny sugary treats, their iconic awesomeness, the way that they just say, very straightforwardly, "this is what I am, I am a brain, you can cope." I find myself pondering other ways to make cupcakes relevant to my various projects (although with some projects, this requires no effort at all—Velveteen gets red velvet cupcakes with vanilla frosting and rainbow sprinkles, for superficial childishness atop adult complexity; Clady just gets whatever you're not eating...), because dude, cupcakes.

Everybody loves baked goods.

First up, for those of you who've wondered what it's like to live with my cats, here's a video link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w2P0QVvqHys

Now don't say I never gave you anything.

Second up, I have just actually mapped out the remainder of my year, so as to see where the holes are. The holes are...nowhere. I'm booked. Like, until December. And that doesn't count the various things I need to be working on, since they're not so much "events" as they are "endemic conditions." You know, like mono, rather than strep throat. So if I turn down an invitation to come out and be social, it's nothing personal, it's just that I can't afford to catch anything else until I've received some mental medical care, and maybe a nice, long nap.

Third up, I should have the ARCs for An Artificial Night any day now, at which point it will once again be time for our summer giveaways. Get your thinking caps on; I want to have truly awesome contests this time, earth-shaking, world-shattering contests. Or, y'know, at least contests that don't bore me. You know, whichever way turns out to work for folks. Let me know if you have suggestions.

Fourth up, I am most of the way through the Sparrow Hill Road story for August, which may need a different title, since it's turned out to be rather more...antic...than was originally expected (it's currently called "Dead Man's Curve"). This seems to be the obligate humorous episode before things get really, really unpleasant, moving up to the December season finale, "Last Kiss," wherein everything becomes, well. Unpleasant for Rose and company. I've got a little time to work it out before things get really urgent.

Fifth up, today I get to go to my favorite bakery with a camera and a Flip video, where I will thoroughly document the process of Jennifer (the owner) making awesome, awesome brain cupcakes. I then get to walk away with the cupcakes. My life is awesome sometimes.

Sixth up, a request: if you speak any language other than English fluently enough to translate, please reply to this post with the following sentences in whatever languages you can, identifying them clearly:

"The dead are rising/walking! Run for your life!"
"I have been infected. Please shoot me."
"I am not infected. Please do not shoot me."

Thank you!

So this Saturday is going to be my very first SF in SF (Science Fiction in San Francisco), and I am both elated and terrified. This is a combination that only remains fun for short periods of time, so I'm calling on all local people to please, please come and help. How can you help? By attending.

I'll be appearing with the fantastic Deborah Grabien. There's going to be a reading, followed by a question and answer session/interview moderated by Terry Bisson. So that should be a lot of fun. The doors open at six, and there will be book sales (courtesy of Borderlands Books), as well as refreshment sales (because boozy authors are more fun than the sober kind).

The event is going to take place at The Variety Preview Room, at 582 Market Street, in the first floor of The Hobart Building. It's literally right next to the Montgomery Street BART Station, so it's totally accessible and awesome. There will be audience participation for the Q&A, and time for hanging out and signing books in the lounge before the event ends at nine-thirty.

Proceeds from the events go to the Variety Children’s Charity.

And while we're on the topic...what do you think I should read? Seanan-style writings only, please; anything by Mira Grant is off the table for this specific event.

Hope to see you there!

Today was my signing event at the Pleasant Hill Borders. I woke bright and early (too bright, and too early; after waking up at 6:20 AM, I went back to bed for another hour and a half), walked to the grocery store for a fresh fruit breakfast, and came back to the house to shower and watch The West Wing while I prepared myself for the day ahead. Wonder of wonders, Mom wasn't just on time, she was early, and we got on the road with time to spare.

After stopping at a yard sale en route, we reached the Borders, parked, hit the Farmer's Market for several pounds of cherries, and went into the bookstore, where I had a small table dedicated to my use, thoughtfully outfitted with some Sharpies and a few bottles of water. People showed up. I signed things. We chatted. It was very nice, although the sheer size of the stack of books made me feel rather like I was letting down the team, and should have been sneaking ninja-like around the store, sliding paperbacks into purses and making people pay to avoid shoplifting fines.

(One fascinating facet of being a "visiting author" in a bookstore: no one wants to meet your eye, for fear that they'll be forced by guilt to buy your book. Much like a Venus flytrap, I had to adopt a strategy of "ignore them until they're too close to escape." Also, once the bookstore employees stop looking you in the face, it's time to leave.)

We eventually took a break for lunch and errands, running to the Best Buy for a new camera* and then to the Texas BBQ for tasty, tasty lunch. I had BBQ chicken, and we split a blackberry cobbler, to which I can only say HOLY CRAP NOM. After that, it was back to the bookstore for a pleasant hour of reading all their comic books while not actually signing anything. Oh, well.

And then the fun started.

See, when we left the bookstore, the car wouldn't start. Several people ignored Mom's pleas for a jump, leading her to call a friend to come jump us. The battery was essentially a zombie at this point, obeying our commands only so long as we didn't feed it salt...so it was off to Pep Boys to buy a battery. Um, yay? I was so tired I was yawning the whole time, and read several old Women's World magazines, which taught me that a) desserts are good, but b) I shouldn't eat them ever, or I'll be fat and no one will love me, and c) men like sex, presumably after a good dessert that I'm not allowed to eat. Again, um, yay?

Having purchased a new battery, Mom drove me to the comic book store, and I salved my wounded soul with graphic novels. Which I will now read. So if you're wondering where I am? I'm in the back of my house, reading the new X-Babies.

Snikt.

(*Yes, this means kitty pictures soon. You're welcome.)

I will be appearing at the Pleasant Hill, California Borders Store tomorrow at noon, in my persona as Mira Grant, destroyer of worlds. The store information is:

120 Crescent Drive
Pleasant Hill, CA 94523
(925) 686-4835

While I'm officially Mira tomorrow, and will be reading Mira-type things, I am happy to sign anything you put in front of me (and I'm sure the store would be more than happy to sell you anything I happen to have been involved with). The weather is gorgeous, and there's a Farmer's Market literally right outside the bookstore, which means that cherry season is totally relevant to the event's interests.

There's no set end time for the event—it's going to run until it isn't running anymore—but I recommend showing up reasonably early if you want to be absolutely sure of catching the fun.

I hope to see you there!

I'm in the home stretch now, because this is the forty-third essay in my fifty-essay series on the business, craft, and never-ending cookie party that is the wonderful world of writing. If I seem to be getting a little bit punchy, it's because I've given up sleep until my deadlines are met. These essays are all based around my original fifty thoughts on writing, which were written in no particular order. This explains a lot. Thanks for sticking it out this far. Our thought for today:

Thoughts on Writing #43: Research Is Love.

Context is also love. Bearing that in mind, here's today's expanded thought:

Your ass is for sitting on, not for talking out of. If your characters are supposed to be gun experts, talk to some people who shoot guns. Read some books about guns. If the books don't make sense to you, hand your manuscript pages to someone who knows guns and say "please fix." My original draft of Feed literally included "INSERT VIROLOGY HERE," because when I wrote that chapter, I hadn't finished designing my virus. I finished my virus, double-checked my epidemiology, went back, and finished that scene. If you don't know what you're talking about, learn enough to fake it.

Authors very rarely write about characters that are exactly like them, down to the classes they took in college and the things they know how to cook for dinner. In almost all cases, even when writing "realistic fiction," we're going to be writing about characters who know things that we, as authors, don't necessarily know. Sure, we'll probably stick them in our areas of interest, because those areas interest us, but how do we deal with the fact that our characters actually know things we don't? How do we make it work?

It's time to talk about research, faking it, and when it's acceptable to bluff. Ready? Good. Let's begin.

( My thoughts are not your thoughts; my process is not your process; my ideas are not your ideas; my method is not your method. All these things are totally right for me, and may be just as totally wrong for you. So please don't stress if the things I'm saying don't apply to you -- I promise, there is no One True Way. This way for my thoughts on getting the facts right.Collapse )

First up, I'm going to be speaking at CoyoteCon this coming Saturday night; schedule details are here. I'm appearing as part of an author conversation, alongside Lucy Snyder, and I'm very excited. Best of all, since this is a virtual conference, I can do it while wearing my jack-o-lantern sleep pants and snuggling my kitties. It's much easier to be professional and authorial when I get to wear pumpkin pants and get kitty snuggles. I'm just saying.

Next weekend, I'm going a bit further afield, and while I could probably do it in my pajamas if I really wanted to, kitty snuggles are not an option. I'm Filk Guest of Honor at Marcon in scenic Columbus, Ohio. I'll be performing in concert with Tom Smith, Dr. Mary Crowell, and the ever-fabulous Amy McNally, and Judi Miller will be signing (so if you've ever wanted to see her do "Wicked Girls," you should really show up). The convention is Friday, May 28th through Sunday, May 30th, and I'm super excited.

I'll post my schedule for the con sometime next week. And oh! I'm bringing Kate as my official handler, so if you've been dying to meet her, again, you should really show up. I have no scheduled bookstore events while in Ohio, but I've met me, and I'm likely to sign any stock that presents itself; I'll try to put up a list of which stores I visit, just in case you can't make the convention, but can make the drive.

This is my first Marcon, and I'd really like to make it amazing. Yes, it does mean I'll be missing BayCon; I'm planning to miss BayCon next year, too, as I'm probably attending Wiscon. The times, they are a'changing.

Marcon!

Kelley Armstrong is one of my favorite urban fantasy authors, and yet more proof that All Good Things Come From Canada.* She was the second person to officially blurb Rosemary and Rue, for which I will love her forever. (The first person was Tanya Huff, and for this, I potentially owe her a kidney.) I mean, really, the only thing that could make Kelley better would be for her to suddenly become local.

OH WAIT WHAT'S THIS? Kelley Armstrong will be appearing at San Francisco's own Borderlands Books tonight at seven? The best bookstore in the world has one of my favorite authors ever? Also one of my mother's favorite authors** ever? Is there anything about this which is not TOTAL WIN?

No. There is not. I hope to see you there, and remember, you can always contact the store to request signed/personalized books, because they are JUST THAT AWESOME.

Whee!

(*Okay, maybe not all good things, but since Canada gives me Brooke, Tanya, Urban Tapestry, Coffee Crisp bars, and ReGenesis, as well as the production of ninety percent of the television I love, I'm willing to give them some extra credit for awesome.)

(**Mom goes Jim Hines, Kelley Armstrong, me. When I eventually slay Jim and Kelley*** on the field of battle, this will be why.)

(***Accidental portmanteaus of Jim and Kelley include "Kim" and "Jelley." I now want to write a series of YA stories about Kim and Jelly, UNDERWORLD EXPLORERS. They would have wild adventures and wear silly hats. Kim is from a secret steampunk under-society built beneath the sewers of San Francisco, using the 1906 earthquake as cover. Jelly is a clone-construct originally intended as an organ farm for his creator. They probably fight crime.)

One of my favorite things about Brooke is the way she gets excited about a lot of the same horrible things that I get excited about. I love all my friends, but very few of them respond to "Hey! I found a horrific multi-segmented exoskeletal thing under this rock!" with "Oooh, neat, let me see!" the way that Brooke will. Brooke is awesome.

Since the book release party was Saturday, and Brooke was going to be staying with me all day Sunday, we started talking about California Things We Could Do. Somehow, this led to my announcing that we have foot-long electric yellow slugs available for viewing in Muir Woods. INSTANT RELEVANCE TO BROOKE'S INTERESTS. And this is how my long-suffering mother found herself roped into spending Mother's Day driving out to Muir Woods so that we could go hunting for monopods in the damp redwood forests of Northern California.

Once again, the apple really didn't fall all that far from the tree.

Muir Woods is about a ninety minute drive from my house, and we used the excursion as an opportunity to educate my mother about Canadian music, blasting Moxy Fruvous and Great Big Sea (she was tolerant). She did ask me at one point whether I'd called the park to be sure they were open. I confirmed that I had. Then...

"Well, did you ask if the banana slugs were out?"
"It's not like the park rangers were going to go and check."

There is no banana slug time clock.

Muir Woods was surprisingly crowded when we arrived; apparently, I wasn't the only person who thought celebrating Mother's Day with giant yellow slugs was a good idea. Brooke and I were ready to be thrilled by nature; I started with being thrilled by the chipmunk in the parking lot. SO CUTE. After that, we were thrilled by a Banana Slug Crossing sign, a First Amendment Zone, and the bathroom. Did I mention that we're excitable?

It was misting lightly as we entered Muir Woods: perfect weather for casual hiking and banana slug-hunting. We had barely been inside for five minutes when the first banana slug sighting occurred, with a three-inch yellow guy* waving his eyestalks saucily at us from the clover next to the walkway. Brooke took his picture. Two minutes later, banana slug sighting number two occurred. So here we are, wandering through this cathedral of redwoods, the tallest trees in the world standing sentinel all around us...looking at the ground. I love my friends.

We did stop to gape at redwoods, and Brooke took many, many pictures. Eventually, we turned onto a side trail, where we proceeded to hit the banana slug jackpot, finding a four-inch Pacific banana slug and two seven-inch California banana slugs in quick succession. Yay!

Now, there's an old tradition that, if you disturb a banana slug while in the woods, you have to kiss it before you put it back. I was watching the Pacific banana slug industriously ooze around on my coat sleeve when a family with three little boys walked up, irresistibly drawn to my slimy friend. Not wanting to be responsible for the squishing of every slug in Muir Woods, I told them about kissing slugs, and that I'd have to kiss the slug before I put it back.

They looked at me expectantly.

I kissed the slug. (I admit this only because Brooke was carrying a camera, and hence has proof.) The eldest of the boys also kissed the slug. His mother made sure to get it on camera, and will thus be able to horrify his prom date in a decade or so. That's me, making the future harder since 1978.

We stopped at the park gift shop when we finished slug hunting, and Brooke acquired a glow-in-the-dark Slug Patrol T-shirt, which she chortled over with great glee. Then it was off to the car, and onto what Brooke termed "the roadkill buffet." A deer came bounding in front of our car, causing Mom to shout and point it out to Brooke (because they don't have deer in Canada, apparently). She was so busy shouting and pointing out the deer that she totally missed the fawn that was following its mother across the road. I screamed. Brooke screamed. Mom hit the brakes, missing Bambi by inches. I swear, if she had hit that damn deer, we'd still be up in Muir Woods. Mourning.

We started moving again after the fawn cleared the road. A wild turkey came strutting across the roadway, unconcerned by the large motor vehicle hurtling toward it. Mom stopped for the turkey.

"You have turkeys here, just wandering around," said Brooke, nonplussed. "That's a thing."

Also featured on the roadkill buffet: joggers! Suicidal joggers! Some people really don't want to live to breed. We managed to not kill any of them, and went rolling merrily back toward home, Mom and I bellowing along to the radio, Brooke slowly passing out in the backseat.

Happy Mother's Day!

(*Technically, banana slugs are hermaphroditic. Really, I don't think they care.)

Saturday was my book launch party for Feed, kindly hosted by the wonderful crew at Borderlands Books. They're very tolerant of my particular brand of crazy, and I appreciate that, since I've been working with this brand for so long that I don't think I could make the switch to generic crazy even if I wanted to.

Brooke arrived Friday from Vancouver, and the plan was that my mother would pick up her, me, and Amy from my house sometime around ten, so that we would have time for a stop in Berkeley before heading into San Francisco. Mom actually arrived around eleven, as she had needed to go pick up the van that we were using to haul everyone around for the day; I allowed that this was, perhaps, an acceptable delay. We encountered more delays, in the form of "picking up Mom's friend Sydney" and "stopping so Brooke could sit on the curb until she stopped feeling like she was going to throw up," and then we were on our way.

First stop: Berkeley, where we visited the Bone Room (lots of exciting dead things for Brooke to coo over!) and collected Kate, who was going to be accompanying us for the rest of the day. Kate, being exceptionally clever, brought her iPad, complete with pre-loaded Plants vs. Zombies. So I played Plants vs. Zombies all the way to San Francisco, and PS, now I want an iPad. All hail Kate.

Second stop: Ghirardelli Square, one of those San Francisco institutions and tourist flytraps that everybody needs to visit at least once, if only to see the fountain with the copper mermaids force-feeding frogs to their horrified babies (no, really). Amy, Kate, and I wound up being the ones to place our order, which meant that we got to choose all the flavors of ice cream for our Earthquake. FEAR OUR POWER. Expert table-sharking netted us a nice table near an epically loud cluster of Girl Scouts, and we settled to await our ice cream.

The thing about the Earthquake is that it's one of those sundaes that comes with eight spoons and really means it. It takes two people to bring it to your table. When the Earthquake arrived, a moment of hushed silence fell, all of us just staring at the enormous mound of dairy goodness in front of us. And then we attacked, like starving hyenas at the waterhole. Only whipped cream and memories remained by the time our spoons dropped from our sugar-numbed fingers, because that is how you start a book release party.

Third stop: Cups and Cakes, to pick up the eight dozen mini cupcakes ordered for the event. The brain cupcakes looked amazing. So amazing, in fact, that I forgot I was supposed to be getting cotton candy cupcakes in the variety pack—whoops. It turned out not to matter, as the cupcakes I did get were utterly destroyed over the course of the evening. All hail sugar, all mourn for my fallen diet.

Fourth stop: Borderlands at last. We got there literally four minutes before we were supposed to arrive, which was cutting it pretty darn close, to find the store teeming with excited party-goers. All attempts to keep people out of the cupcakes failed, as they kept opening the boxes and snitching out cupcakes every time I turned my back, so we eventually just gave up and let the hordes descend. Rae brought RYMAN FOR PRESIDENT buttons, which were even more awesome than the cupcakes, and passed them out to the crowd.

After milling, I read the first chapter of Feed, and we had a fun, fast-paced discussion/Q&A session before another milling-and-cupcakes break. This was followed by my reading "Gimme a 'Z'!", since I didn't want to read chapter two, and we needed something else to amuse the crowd. Jude hadn't realized that I was serious when I said she was the new Squad Leader. Much amusement abounded. After that came another Q&A, and then we broke for the evening, leaving the bookstore in the same condition that we found it in.

Fifth stop: The Phoenix for dinner, before somebody got killed and eaten. I had lamb stew. My diet, so shot for the night.

Sixth stop: The airport, to send Amy back to Wisconsin.

Seventh stop: Kate's house, to return her to GP.

Eighth stop: Home, and bed.

I love book release night. Go Pumpkins!

Here's your friendly neighborhood Disney Halloweentown Princess with a cheerful reminder that tomorrow, I'll be appearing at Borderlands Books in San Francisco from five to nine PM in my role as Mira Grant, Destroyer of Worlds. As I have ordered eight dozen mini cupcakes for this event, leaving me to my own devices may result in some actual destroying of man, as I will get all hopped-up on sugar and then people will die. Save the world. Come to my party and eat a cupcake.

More seriously, this is to celebrate my first book as Mira, Feed (Newsflesh I), which came out on April 27th. It's been getting really awesome reviews, and has caused several of my friends to threaten to hit me (that's how you know it's good). It's dystopian science fiction with zombies in—sort of a cross between The West Wing, Night of the Living Dead, and Transmetropolitan—and I'm really, really proud of it.

There will be cupcakes. Naked cats. Discussion. Readings (yes, possibly plural; I'm planning to read the first chapter of Feed, and I'm bringing some of my dead-stuff themed short stories to read later in the evening). Plus, awesome bookstore full of awesome books. And I will be happy to sign books published under my own name, as well as under Mira's, so anything you want to buy and shove in front of me will be awesome.

If you can't make it, remember that you can contact the bookstore and request a signed or personalized book of your very own. They make excellent gifts, doorstops, and base materials for the manufacture of paper-mache masks, in addition to making me do a little dance when the pile of things-to-sign is placed in front of me. Support local bookstores (no one said who they had to be local to...).

I hope I'll see you there! As a special added bonus, if you let me know that you're planning to show up, I'll try to make sure that we save you a cupcake.

Zombies rule!

This Saturday, May 8th 2010, I will be appearing at San Francisco's own Borderlands Books in my guise as Mira Grant to celebrate the release of Mira's first novel, Feed [Amazon]|[Mysterious Galaxy]. Feed is a science fiction dystopian novel of political zombie terror, best described as "Night of the Living Dead meets The West Wing and Transmetropolitan." If that sounds a little weird, well...it is. But if it sounds a little awesome, you should totally swing by.

This is going to be a more traditional event than most of my parties, because Mira's a traditional kind of girl...especially if by "traditional" you mean "fond of machetes, the undead, and things that go bump in the night." We'll be in the bookstore starting at five, and we'll be staying there until nine, providing plenty of time for undead awesomeness. There will be readings, discussion, time for wandering around the bookstore, and, yes, the world's best cupcakes. Some of my best friends from out of town will be attending, so this is your chance to finally check off "Rae" on your Seanan bingo card.

I really hope you can make it, and if you can't, remember that you can contact Borderlands to request a signed/personalized book be set aside for you.

Whee!

ETA: Festivities will begin at 5:00 PM, and continue until 9:00.

I am currently in studio for my fourth album, titled Wicked Girls. It's my second album recorded at Flowinglass Music, with Kristoph Klover acting as my recording engineer and musical guru. There are going to be sixteen tracks, fourteen original and two covers (one by Dave Carter, one by Brian Gunderson—see if you can guess what they are). Michelle Dockrey appears on thirteen songs. SJ Tucker appears on two. Betsy Tinney appears on three. Amy McNally appears all over the damn place, burning up the floor with her fiddle. And it's going to be...

It's going to be damn amazing.

Vixy was down this past weekend to record her parts for the album, a process that required two days in the studio, and meant I needed to record my lead vocal lines for two songs, to give her something to work against ("Wicked Girls Saving Ourselves" and "How Much Salt?"). Working with her is a joy beyond belief, because we genuinely improve each other. I am a better lyricist for knowing that she's going to play a part in making my work come to life. Several of my better songs—"Wicked Girls," "Missing Part," even "Sycamore Tree"—were written, at least in part, with her voice in mind, either as a lead or backing vocal. I am a better vocalist because I know I have to live up to what she does.

It doesn't hurt that she's, y'know, one of my best friends in the world, and also a good sport about the amount of crazy that Kristoph and I can generate when left to our own devices. We just point her at a microphone and tell her that she's good to go, and wow...wow, does she go. I sit in the booth and I listen, and I rejoice that I have such amazing people in my life.

We listened to the rough playback of "Wicked Girls," totally unmixed, totally raw. Just voices, guitar, cello, fiddle, and djembe wrestling for control. And even without the polish that Kristoph is going to use to turn it into something real, it was...heartbreaking. We both just cried.

I love my recording engineer, and I love my Vixy, and I am going to love this album. I can't wait for you to hear it.

Yesterday, I was sitting on BART reading the absolutely fantastic new book, I am Not a Serial Killer [Amazon]|[Mysterious Galaxy] by Dan Wells. It has blood splatter all over the cover. That's how you know it's quality.

Anyway, I was happily reading away when the train pulled into Embarcadero Station and a fairly generic-looking white male of approximately my age got on and took the seat beside me. He was very...standard issue, really. Brown hair, no visible blemishes, not handsome, not ugly, just normal. He was wearing an equally generic-looking gray suit, the kind that doesn't make you go "Wow, that guy's sharp" or "Wow, that guy needs to have a talk with his tailor." He was just normal.

We rode "together" (as in, crammed into the same two-person seater) to the Downtown Berkeley stop, where he got up, smiled pleasantly at me, nodded toward my book, and said, "I am."

And then he got off the train.

Had that been my stop, I think there's a very good chance I would have decided to ride to Colma, rather than disembarking. But the book is excellent, and I bet that, for most people, it doesn't come bundled with a maybe-joking-maybe-I-should-lock-the-doors stranger. Brrr.

My mother survived her first day at a comic book convention! Well, mostly: she had to leave early because her back was bothering her (although I suspect the real culprit was my little sister's legs, since my little sister doesn't walk, and none of them believed me about the sheer scope of even a small comic con). She bought a chicken hat and wore it with pride. And people wonder why she admits that I'm her daughter.

I lined up for the Esplanade early enough to get really awesome seats for the sneak preview of next week's Fringe (although this did require sitting through an episode of V, and dude, what the hell?). Sunil came and joined me after he finished shopping, and since I had nothing better to do, I stayed and watched Kevin Smith's Q&A with him. Gotta love any man whose response to "How are you?" is "I'm so glad you asked! I had the best fucking sex of my life last night!" followed by a lengthy explanation of how a fleshlight works. Ah, Kevin Smith, if you weren't real, we'd have to invent you.

Now I'm up, packed, and going back for another day.

We're almost done with the current round of the Fourth Annual BSC Review Tournament. So far, Rosemary and Rue has managed to defeat Heart's Blood, The Warded Man, and Turn Coat, but Toby's having a contested battle against catvalente's Palimpsest. Please consider casting your vote to keep Toby in the tournament. It's fun!

One thing I didn't say before, and will say now (because it hadn't come up before): Please play nicely, whether you vote for me or for Cat, and don't say things that will make the other author feel bad. "It took me a while to get into this" or "It just wasn't my thing" are cool. "This author sucks" or "If I wanted to read _______, I would just go read _______" are not cool. Thankfully, no one who's voted for me has said anything like that, but some of the people playing tourney are starting to get personal, and that makes this a hell of a lot less fun. Someone's always sad when there has to be a winner and a loser, but there's being a loser, and then there's being a loser who's been told they suck at the same time.

Girl fight tonight!

I'm off for Wondercon, in sometimes-sunny San Francisco! I have no official programming this year, but will definitely be attending the following (unless I get bored, or find something else to do, or need lunch):

Friday at 4:30, Fringe screening.
Saturday at 12:00, Disney sneak peeks.
Saturday at 1:45, Resident Evil 4 panel.
Saturday at 2:30, the future of the X-Men.
Saturday at 4:00, Trailer Park.
Saturday at 4:30, Kick-Ass presentation.

I have no specific plans for Sunday, and may or may not attend, depending on my word counts. I'll have my mother and my younger sister (and my younger sister's girlfriend) in tow for much of the weekend; if you spot us, feel free to say hey, and get anything you might be carrying signed. There will be shiny new bookmarks on the freebie table. I'll post when we have a time for the cupcake run.

Whee!

This past Tuesday was my second book release party at San Francisco's own Borderlands Books. The folks at Borderlands are learning to believe me when I say things like "and I'm bringing a snake pit and an elephant and six dozen elvish acrobats," because, well, it's safer than the doubtful alternative. So when I said "I'm bringing Amy 'oh hai I am melting your face off with my AWESOME FIDDLING' McNally, Tricky Pixie*, and my usual cast of thousands, they believed me, and made space accordingly. This is because the crew at Borderlands is awesome.

The party was scheduled to run from five to nine, and they were kind enough to keep the bookstore, which normally closes at eight, open for an extra hour because they knew that we were coming. After mass discussion amongst the Traveling Circus and Snake-Handling Show**, we decided to begin our invasion at four, allowing time for things to be set up, any last-minute emergencies to be resolved, and the adulation of naked cats. Because we are clever. I arrived at the bookstore at roughly four-fifteen, and was promptly beset by a) Amy in a black leather under-bust corset HELLO, b) Ash, younger of the store's two pedigreed Sphynx cats, and c) Jude, with a stack of books to be signed and inscribed. I found all these things to be utterly awesome, and managed to keep myself from stroking the books, signing Amy, and hugging Ash. Barely.

Once I was finished signing at the bookstore, I proceeded next door to the cafe, where industrious setting up was underway. The musicians bustled briskly in all directions, and the entire small room at the back of the cafe became, essentially, our green room for stuff storage and makeup application. Awesome. Alan and Jude were trying to be everywhere at once, getting things into position as they raced in a dozen different directions at the same time. The band was decked out in awesome urban pixie togs (and no one looked at them oddly, proving once again that Toby worries too much). Alan and Jude were in Bookstore Ninja black...and I was wearing electric orange and green.

Um, go Pumpkins?

A raffle table was established next to the cafe's pastry case, and the prizes were arrayed for ooh-ing and ahh-ing: signed books, ARCs, foreign editions, CDs, random goodies, brand new chimera_fancies pendants that no one had ever seen before. Marti and my mother passed out raffle tickets, while I got strips of tickets to Jude (in the cafe) and Kary (in the bookstore). Mom successfully got Alan to provide her with a vase, because Mom is sometimes bad-ass, and we got things underway a respectable ten minutes late.

The first musical awesome of the night was provided by Amy, who did a solo set with grace, aplomb, and amazing fiddling. Betsy joined her for a few songs, on cello, and Alec joined her for one on the drum. Totally rockin'. After that, the first raffle drawing was held, and people won cool things (yay). I signed a bunch of books. I signed somebody's cup. The cafe sold out of pastries and bagels. The cafe made multiple runs to buy more bread. Let me say that again: they had to buy more bread. We ate all their bread.

We rule.

The second set of the night was Tricky Pixie, and they tore it up, with "Dryad's Promise" and "Tam Lin." More raffle. And then...

...Tricky Pixie set three. Which Sooj opened, solo, with a surprise performance of her newest song. "Tybalt." About, um...Tybalt. My King of Cats. I...um...wow. I only cried a little. That means I win, right? (Actually, the song's existence means I win.)

The rest of the set was a whole lot of awesome packed into a remarkably small span of time. Amy and I joined them for the last song: a cover of my own "Wicked Girls." Hearing that whole audience singing along nearly made me start to cry again. Then it was time for the final raffle drawing of the night (our table included donations from both the bookstore and the band, by that point), cleaning up, and heading home.

We got back to Concord way, way past pumpkin-time...and it was so very worth it. So, so very worth it.

I can't wait to do it all again.

(*Consisting of Betsy "I am too awesome to exist in fiction; only reality can contain me" Tinney, SJ "what do I know from alligator I ask you could you die" Tucker, and Alexander James "no, no, that's okay, you can trust me with your wine, women, and song" Adams. Tricky Pixie is twenty pounds of awesome in a ten pound sack.)

(**Sadly, this iteration of the Traveling Circus was missing several members of the sideshow, including Vixy, Brooke, and Tony. Their absence was deeply felt by the remaining members of the Circus, although we soldiered bravely on. We have great hopes for September's Circus, which will be in celebration of An Artificial Night, and will be designed to basically blow the roof clean off the bookstore.)

I'll post a writeup of last night's party...later. When I'm actually awake, and not simply faking it really, really well. (Right now, y'all are lucky I'm writing in English, and not in some sublime language of my own creation, which would involve neither capitalization nor punctuation.) For right now, if you missed the Circus coming to town, there are still a few places where you can catch me. Namely...

I'll be appearing at the San Bruno Barnes and Noble on Friday, March 12th, from 7 to 9 PM. I'll be reading, answering questions, and signing books, which you can even buy right there. Total convenience! I'll also be essentially jetlagged, which could make me really, really entertaining. The bookstore is located at...

1150 El Camino Real
Space 227
San Bruno, Ca 94066

My dear friend Chaz Brenchley will be appearing at Borderlands Books on Saturday, March 13th, at 3:00 PM. I'm planning to attend, to show my support. This means that if you had wanted to order a book inscribed (not just signed), you can contact Borderlands now, and I'll be able to personalize the book for you on Saturday. (Please also remember that, for signed books through the mail, Borderlands remains your absolute best of all possible options. Largely because there aren't any other options.)

Rounding out a weekend during which sleep is not an option, I'll be appearing at the Belmont Library in Belmont, California (near San Francisco) on Sunday, March 14th, at 2:00 PM. There will be a reading and a Q&A session. I will also be signing things, although I won't be selling things myself, so if you want something signed, please bring it with you. I will not sign checks, binding contracts, or children that don't belong to you. This is my first library appearance, and I'd really love to see you there.

And that's my weekend. It's like I'm a professional author or something...

Well, here we go again: I will be descending on San Francisco's own Borderlands Books, accompanied by Amy McNally, Tricky Pixie, and my usual entourage of deep weirdness. The event starts at five and runs until nine (they've extended the bookstore's hours JUST FOR US), and will include a whole lot of awesome packed into a reasonably small span of time.

The schedule for the evening:

5:00 PM: Welcome to our party.
5:40 PM: Perhaps you would like some music.
6:00 PM: Perhaps you would like to win things.
7:00 PM: More music?
7:30 PM: More prizes?
7:45 PM: Assuming people are not too busy buying books and drinking coffee, Seanan will read something.
8:30 PM: Last music of the night.
8:50 PM: Last chance to give the bookstore and cafe money before we say goodnight.
9:00 PM: Last raffle drawing of the night and we close the evening.

Raffle prizes this time include pendants by Mia of chimera_fancies (and they are insanely gorgeous, seriously), signed books, albums, games, the German edition of Rosemary and Rue, and more. Remember that Borderlands will take requests for signed books, so if you can't make it, you can contact the store to request a copy signed for you. I do hope we'll see you there, and if you can't be there in the flesh, the store is astral projection-friendly.

Book release party!

Did you want to hang out with cool people, hear cool music, get things signed, and maybe win cool prizes? Well, tomorrow's your chance, since the Traveling Circus and Snake-Handling Show will be rolling into San Francisco's Borderlands Books at five, and staying until they kick us out.

The schedule for the event:

5:00 PM: Welcome to our party.
5:40 PM: Perhaps you would like some music.
6:00 PM: Perhaps you would like to win things.
7:00 PM: More music?
7:30 PM: More prizes?
7:45 PM: Assuming people are not too busy buying books and drinking coffee, Seanan will read something.
8:30 PM: Last music of the night.
8:50 PM: Last chance to give the bookstore and cafe money before we say goodnight.
9:00 PM: Last raffle drawing of the night and we close the evening.

Remember that Borderlands will take requests for signed books, so if you can't make it, you can contact the store to request a copy signed for you. I do hope we'll see you there, and I'll post a more detailed reminder tomorrow.

Book release party!

Uh-oh, look out—Borderlands Books in San Francisco, California is being awesome again. As many of you know, Borderlands is basically my "home" bookstore; I spend way too much time there, enjoying their awesome, annoying their cats, and feeding cupcakes to the staff. They've recently opened the Borderlands Cafe, a friendly, comfortable, welcoming place to sit, have a cup of coffee, read a magazine, and experience general awesomeness. Because of this, they're updating some things about the bookstore, and—best of all—they're having some sales.

First up is the OMG AMAZING gift certificate sale, which I wanted to highlight because it's not geographically restricted. Here's a quote from the store newsletter:

"We're going to offer one hundred special gift certificates. Each one will cost $100. Unlike a normal gift certificate, it won't give you $100 of purchasing power at the store...it'll give you $120. But also unlike a normal gift certificate, you won't be able to use it until the 1st of August this year. In other words, you buy the certificate this month and in five months or so you gain $20.

If you do the math, it seems like a crazy deal since, if it were a loan, it works out to more than 40% interest over a year term. But, from my standpoint, it's not bad at all. First off, you'll be spending the certificate on inventory at the store, which I get at a discount. Second, it is much simpler for me and has a much surer result than jumping through all the hoops necessary to get a loan for the business. For you it's a great deal since the return (if it were an investment, which is isn't—the people in charge of looking at securities and investments wouldn't like that at all) is much better than you could expect from almost anything else that you could do with a hundred bucks.

The certificates are transferable if you want to buy one for someone else and they're good for anything in the store, including special orders. But you might want to act fast. I'm only going to issue 100 of them and when we're out, we're out and it's not an offer that I'm likely to repeat.

If you live outside of San Francisco or even outside of the United States, you can participate in this as well and I hope that you do. We are happy to sell these certificates by mail and, since we'll be tracking the purchaser names, certificate numbers, and balances, you can buy one and then use it for mail orders to your heart's content. Plus there's an added bonus—the person in the United States who orders one of these certificates and who is located the farthest from San Francisco (based on the billing address of their credit card) will get an added certificate good for $10 and usable immediately after the 100th certificate is sold. And, not to leave our international customers out, we'll do the same thing for the international customer who's the farthest from San Francisco (and that is going be be based on their mailing address). Just give a call or drop us an email and we'll be happy to set you up."

So a) contact the store, b) buy a gift certificate, c) in five months, get $120 worth of books for $100 in actual money. Um, wow? Also, please note that the certificates "mature" at the start of August, and I have a book coming out at the start of September...

There are also bunches of awesome physical sales running through the month of March; you can read about them in the store newsletter. Finally, remember that Borderlands is happy to take orders for signed books. To quote their event policy:

"All events are free of charge. You are welcome to bring copies of an author's books purchased elsewhere to be autographed (but we do appreciate it if you purchase something while at the event). For most events you are welcome to bring as many books as you wish for autographs. If you are unable to attend the event we will be happy to have a copy of any of the author's available books signed or inscribed for you. We can then either hold it until you can come in to pick it up or we can ship it to you. Just give us a call or drop us an email. If you live out of town, you can also ship us books from your collection to be signed. Call or email for details."

Awesome! Enjoy the awesome, exploit the awesome, turn the awesome to your own gain, and help support my favorite local bookstore.

My beloved Amy, savior of tired blondes, fiddler to the very gods themselves, arrived last night on a plane from Alabama, where she'd been visiting her sister and staying with my Halloween Family (the Crowells). Amy is key to my survival during Release Week Madness, being a very focused and centered individual whose primary purpose in life sometimes seems to be keeping the various members of her extended campana from self-destructing in a variety of exciting ways. I love Amy very much.

In preparation for her visit, I placed an order with my favorite cupcakery, Cups and Cakes, which is located conveniently close to my office. Specifically, I ordered an assorted dozen cupcakes, to please please please include the Mudslide (slightly bitter dark chocolate cake with Bailey's and Kahlua buttercream icing). After a long day spent dreaming of cupcakes and fiddlers, I left the office and went to make the pickup, only to learn to my delight that my personal favorite flavor, the Peanut Butter and Jelly, had also been included in the assortment. (Sweet grape cake with peanut butter buttercream. Basically, these cupcakes are felony-level delicious.) Victory!

As Amy's flight was not for several hours, I also grabbed a couple of spare Mudslide cupcakes with which to bribe Jude, who was on-duty at Borderlands Books, where I intended to kill some time. Borderlands is an excellent place to sit and work, at least if you're me, and find the smells and sounds of a well-maintained bookstore endlessly soothing.

The cupcakes and I reached the bookstore without incident, and I promptly plied Jude with her delicious cupcake-y treats, thus convincing her to allow me to sit and work. (It didn't take much convincing, or really, any convincing; Borderlands is very pro-authors actually finishing books, providing we're not breaking anything while we do it.) Alas, it turned out that Ripley and Ash, the store's hairless cats, were less well-inclined toward my literary aspirations. The afternoon went something like this...

"Mow."
"No, Ripley, you can't have my lap. I'm working."
"Wow."
"Okay, you can have half my lap. But I'm still working."
"Yow."
"Just let me shut down my laptop, and I'll pet you."
"Now."
"...stop speaking English, it's creepy."

Ash, meanwhile, rode the Kitty Crazytrain around the store until it became time to groom herself, at which point she perched on my arm and licked her naked arms with blithe abandon. I think, perhaps, that I spend too much time at Borderlands, as the cats have now started to regard me as furniture.

In the "spending too much time at Borderlands" category, local folks please remember that I'll be at the store on March 9th for the A Local Habitation release party. We'll have live music from SJ Tucker, Betsy Tinney, Amy McNally, and potentially more; a raffle with some awesome, awesome prizes; a reading from A Local Habitation; and the Great Pumpkin only knows what else. It's gonna be an awesome time, and I'd love to see lots and lots of you there.

Borderlands Books. Because sometimes, we like our cats with a side-order of Nair.

Yesterday, I was demonstrating to a friend of mine (who finds my fascination with ASL charming, if odd) that I can now sign "Behold! For now I wear the human pants!" My grammar is a little wonky, but I'll be seeing Judi in a few weeks, so right now I'm just working on getting the signs committed to muscle memory.

A Deaf gentleman about my age saw me signing, and got very excited. He came over, and signed, "You know ASL?" (In the case of signs that I don't know myself, but whose meaning was evident from context, I'm including them to form actual sentences.)

I signed back "A little." Emphasis on "little."

He asked what I knew...so I showed him. Around the time I hit "working in a mine for our robot overlords" and "did I say overlords? I meant protectors," he started to look, well, dubious. Like there was a chance I thought I knew some ASL, when really, someone was messing with me.

Then I signed "The Turtle can't help you."

His eyes widened, and he proceeded to finger-spell "IT?" I nodded. He made an "S" sign, followed by a gesture like putting on a crown. I nodded again. He got even more excited, especially since now he knew I actually understood my messed-up assortment of signs. He had me teach him "robot overlords," and he taught me the sign for "weird."

ASL and Stephen King: bringing the world closer together. The best part is that, for once in my life, I can legitimately say that the Turtle did help us.

I get off work at four in the afternoon; my flight last night didn't leave the airport until nine. This left me with a five-hour gap and, since there was nothing I was really dying to go to the movies for, I decided to just head for the airport, get through security, and settle on the concourse to get some serious writing done. (I would have stopped at Borderlands to get the new issue of Locus, but their shipment hadn't arrived yet when I had to leave the office. That's what Monday is for.) I was flying Virgin America, and since BART runs literally into the SFO International Departures Terminal, getting there was a piece of cake. I like cake!

After dropping off my luggage and confirming that my flight hadn't been canceled or anything stupid like that, I started for security. Airport security encounter one: a security guard was walking by with a kind of dog I'd never seen before hauling him along as it happily sniffed its way through the airport. I stopped.

"Oh, wow! Is that the contraband dog?"
"Yes, she is."
"What kind of dog is she?"
"She's a Dutch Shepherd."
"Oh, wow. Can she check my things for contraband?"

The security guard looked surprised, but allowed as how the dog could check my things for contraband if I really wanted her to. She did so, with much tail wagging and adoration. So here's a big thanks to Susie the contraband dog, who made my travel experience safer.

From there, I went to the actual security line, where my large laptop was pulled out for an explosives swab. Cool by me. The woman doing it swabbed down the outside, and then asked if she could open it and swab inside. (Like I was going to say no? To the TSA?) I said sure, but warned her that she would encounter a lot of cat hair. She opened the laptop.

"That is a lot of cat hair."
"I have a Siamese and a Maine Coon."
"Really? I have a brown mackerel tabby!"
"Mine's a blue classic tabby and white!"

...so if you got stuck in an inexplicable delay at the SFO International Terminal security checkpoint last night, sorry about that. I was talking Maine Coons with the TSA lady.

And after all that? My flight landed forty-one minutes early. Yes, early. The pilot actually apologized for the fact that we had reached Seattle almost an hour ahead of schedule, and I got to call Vixy to tell her that I was already there. This wasn't easy, since I think she thought I was calling about a delay, not to say "come get me."

Best travel experience ever.

Once again, my big list o' holidays* says that today is a holiday that is very important to me, and makes a big impact on my life. Maybe not as big an impact as Virus Appreciation Day (October 3rd), which I celebrate every year by not unleashing the pandemic, or Cuckoo Warning Day (June 21st), which is best celebrated by evolving parasitic wasps into telepathic humanoids, but still, it's important to me.

Today is Australia Day.

So today we celebrate the existence of Australia, the continent which proves that evolution did a lot of drugs when it was young. Today we celebrate the fact that Australia is full of things that want to make us all die, the fact that Australia is frequently on fire, and the fact that Australia essentially hates humanity. Specific things to celebrate about Australia include venomous snakes, spiders the size of dinner plates, marsupials, really interesting money, the koala (which will totally rip your face off if you poke it), and the cone snail, which is the size of a man's thumb and can kill you extremely dead. This is why you do not fuck around with the native wildlife of Australia.

Tonight I will celebrate by going to Kate's house to eat tasty Indian food and tell her things she never wanted to know about the many ways in which Australia can render you extremely deceased. There will be expository hand-gestures, and possibly even diagrams. Kate puts up with a lot from me, really. And later this year, I'll belatedly celebrate Australia Day by actually going to Melbourne, Australia, for the glory of WorldCon.

Thank you for existing, Australia! Today is your day. Your venomous, deadly, kicking-your-ass, being eaten by koalas day.

Hooray Australia!

(*I have a list containing a holiday for every single day of the year. Some days have more than one holiday listed. The world needs more excuses for a party.)

Last night I was the featured author at the Clayton Books monthly book club, in Clayton, California. The bookstore is literally two doors down from my dentist, so it's sort of a miracle I agreed to go anywhere near it without an armed guard; perhaps my phobia is getting better. Or maybe I was just really excited to have been asked. Whatever the reason for my attendance, it was agreed upon several months ago. When I was invited, I asked what was expected of me. The bookstore owner said, jokingly, that I should bring cupcakes.

More fool he.

At three, I convinced a co-worker to drive me to the Cups and Cakes Bakery, which I am rapidly coming to believe is the best cupcake bakery (cupcakery?) in the universe. I had placed an order for three dozen cupcakes, which were waiting for me in their pretty pink boxes, ready to go off and be consumed. In total, there were a dozen grasshopper cupcakes (dark chocolate cake with peppermint frosting—think a cakey, delicious version of the Thin Mint), a dozen pretty pretty princess cupcakes (strawberry cake with strawberry buttercream frosting and edible silver pearls), and a variety pack containing two deep dark chocolate, two vanilla (which are possibly the Ur-Vanilla cupcakes, intended to be honored in song and in story), two red velvet, two cloud nine (angel food cake with seven-minute frosting), two root beer float, and two banana with salted caramel frosting. Because when I bring cupcakes to my own party, I don't screw around.

Getting into the BART system, during a major storm, while carrying three dozen cupcakes: not the easiest thing I have ever done. But funny. Especially as people tried to wheedle me into giving them cupcakes (and then inevitably said "No, no, I was just kidding" and looked alarmed when I shrugged and said "Yeah, sure"). My mother picked me up on the Walnut Creek side, where we placed the cupcakes reverently in her backseat and proceeded to the normal Wednesday errands, including the obligate stop at the comic book store. Flying Colors, how I adore you.

After a stop at the house to brush the cat, change my clothes, brush the cat, comb my hair, brush the cat, pack a bag for the evening, and brush the cat, we were off to dinner (at Applebee's) and then the bookstore. We arrived around seven, and walked in, toting cupcakes. They had my picture up in several places. Feeling thus boldly recognizable, I approached the woman at the counter.

"Where should I put these?"

She looked at me blankly. I began to worry that they had some other fluffy blonde urban fantasy author coming, and I was in the wrong place.

"I think I'm tonight's author?"

"Oh!" She beamed. "I didn't expect you to bring snacks!"

People never take me seriously.

Mom and I wandered around the bookstore looking at things while we waited for the event to begin. Eventually, people began to trickle in, including Joel, the owner of the store, and X., my housemate (who belongs to the book club). Only one other member of the actual book club showed up, thanks to the UNENDING RAIN: the rest of the audience consisted of my friend Shawn, his wife, Elsa (who braved the cold with a cold to attend), Andy from the comic book store, and my mother. Still, we sat and talked for two hours, mostly about Toby, and everybody ate cupcakes with great alacrity, so I'm calling it a win. Also, I still have cupcakes.

Yum.

January.
It's 2010! That's incredibly freaky! And to make things freakier, the month is already super-busy, because nothing says "love" like keeping me busy. On January 20th, I'll be appearing at the Clayton Books Book Club in Clayton, California. It's a book discussion, rather than a reading or anything silly like that, which really means "this is your opportunity to grill me mercilessly on the Toby books, along with basically everything else. I'm planning to bring cupcakes, because I am possibly certifiably insane. I'm also planning to bring prizes of some sort, because people like prizes, and I try to do things that people like.

I'm also flying to Seattle at the end of the month—yes, again—to attend Conflikt III, the Pacific Northwest's very own filk convention. Tom Smith is this year's Guest of Honor, which is going to be awesome. I love Tom, and I'm really looking forward to performing with him in May. Plus, this gives me the vital opportunity to hug me some Vixy.

February.
In February, I'm planning to write, write, write, and, oh, right, write. I'm nowhere near that dark and troubled country known as the Land of Missed Deadlines, but I fear that country's borders so much that I've set aside essentially all my spare time in February for staying as far from there as possible. Watch for flailing, and send care packages of Diet Dr Pepper and candy corn.

Toward the end of February, the fabulous stealthcello will be showing up (along with awesome bonus Katie) to stay with me pre-Consonance and check out the Bay Area a bit. Because doubling your awesome doubles your fun, Sooj and K will also be showing up, and a good time will be had by all. (There may be some extra awesome during this time period. Watch this space for details.)

March.
Oh, nothing major. Just, I don't know, THE RELEASE OF THE SECOND TOBY BOOK. A Local Habitation will be coming out in the first week of March. Expect flailing, hysterical, and awesome stuff. How awesome? "I've done this before and know what I'm doing now" awesome. Be there. (Just to make things more exciting, the release of A Local Habitation coincides with Consonance, the Bay Area's own filk convention, where Tricky Pixie will be appearing as Guests of Honor. Because I needed my head to explode if at all possible.)

On March 9th, we'll be having a reunion of the Traveling Circus and Snake-Handling Show, as we invade Borderlands Books to celebrate the release of A Local Habitation. The Borderlands Cafe is now open, and it's going to be twenty flavors of fantastic, including live music, readings, a raffle, and more. There's always, always more.

April.
April kicks off with the glory that is Wondercon, the San Francisco Bay Area comic and cool media convention. Last year at Wondercon, I didn't have any books in print. This year, I'll have two. What a difference a year makes. I intend to wander the dealer's hall with prizes in my pocket, making myself a target for treasure hunters, just like last year. Only this year, I'm bringing a real celebrity with me: my MOM. So here's your chance to meet her while she's too confused to try to drive you somewhere!

May.
In May, the first of the Mira Grant books, Feed, will be hitting shelves. I cannot express how excited I am by this book. I love the world, I love the characters, and sort of like the softer side of Sears, this is a whole different side of my work. Only for "softer," substitute "gory, merciless, scientific, political, and horrific." I really can't wait. I'm trying to pretend that I won't explode.

Also in May, I'll be attending Marcon in Columbus, Ohio as their Music Guest of Honor. The theme is "Necropolis," and the timing couldn't be better (nor the theme closer to my heart). Watch for thrills, chills, and possibly 1940s couture made from horrible zombie-print Halloween fabrics. Also, this is your chance to get up to three of my books signed. WHOA!

June.
June is currently totally free, and that's a damn good thing, because wow, am I going to need the break. Pressing on...

July.
Here's where things get crazy. In July, I have not one, not two, but three conventions to attend, starting with the very first weekend of the month: Westercon, which is combined with ConChord this year. I'm the Guest of Honor at ConChord, which means, y'know, I'm planning to attend, and more, planning to blow the roof off. Paul Kwinn, my frequent partner in crime, is their Toastmaster, and between the two of us, there's going to be a whole lot of hoot and a whole lot of nanny. Plus it's in Pasadena, land of Disney, where a good time can easily be had by all.

I'll barely have time to return to the Bay Area before it's back to Southern California for the San Diego International Comic Convention, where again, last year I didn't have any books in print, and this year I'll have three, as well as probably having ARCs for the fourth. I may hyperventilate and die. Only not, because at the end of the month, I have Spocon! In Spokane, Washington, where I'll be the Filk Guest, along with Author Guest Tanya Huff! Ladies of DAW, unite!

August.
Australia awaits.

The year is filling up fast, and more things are bound to appear as the months draw closer—look at how detailed the next few months are compared to the later ones. If you want me, book early, book often, and bribe.

Whee!

My flight back from Seattle to San Francisco touched down about twenty minutes before eight last night. We were actually early, which was a trifle annoying, as it meant that all the post-landing announcements interrupted the episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place that I'd been watching (yes, I am a total dork). Oh, well. At least it was one I'd seen before. I collected my suitcase from the baggage claim, met Mom at the escalator, and was promptly toted across the Bay Area to home, where I was greeted by a stack of mail and two incredibly irritated blue cats.

People who haven't met my cats often fail to understand exactly how good they are at making their annoyance known. These people need to be shut in a room with Lilly, Alice, and an empty food dish for half an hour. At the end of this time, they will understand a) that my cats are perfectly capable of explaining, in the detail, their displeasure, and b) I should get hazard pay for entering the house without feather toys and treats.

Thankfully, my girls aren't good at being mad for long. After a night of cuddling and a morning spent watching Boa vs. Python (with the pair vying for dominion over my lap), I seem to have been essentially forgiven. They still aren't letting me out of their sight, but that isn't all that unusual.

Over the course of my time in Seattle, I ate cupcakes, baked a turkey, made insane numbers of cookies, saw Die Hard for the first time, went to several bookstores, gave a concert, embarked on a successful quest for cranberries, reached 90,000 words on Blackout, formally turned in the first Sparrow Hill Road story, watched all of season one of Glee, played with kittens, rewrote about half my website, and hugged many people I love.

It was a good holiday break. I hope yours was just as lovely.

My recent radio silence has been the result, not of traumatic head injury or watching all of The West Wing in one huge gluttonous marathon, but of having a lovely time in Seattle with some of my favorite people in the world. (Seriously, I sometimes think my definition of "absolutely perfect" would include a guest list of about eight people, bribing Betsy to let us come have a kitchen party at her place, and "accidentally" cutting the phone lines.) Also, everyone here tends to sleep until noon when not actively poked with sticks, and I get up at seven-thirty, so I've been doing a lot of catch-up work, very little of which sparks my brain to post.

I shall say interesting and insightful things later; for right now, this is a random time for random things, because I need to clean up my tabs again.

rivkat has tossed a short review of Rosemary and Rue into the fray, and says "It's a good debut, giving information at the right pace and creating an engaging urban fantasy world." I approve.

There's also a short review over on Just Finished, which says "McGuire, a local author who is also a must see feature on the local SF convention scene due to her off the cuff witty remarks, does a good job with the first book of this planned series." (Also, the complaint that I sometimes get overly wrapped up in things that won't happen for eight books is fair. I've gotten much better about it, promise.)

Vixen's Daily Reads posted a review, and says "I read this a few weeks ago, but wasn't sure how I would write a review that would do this justice. I honestly still don't think I will do the book justice, but I want to write the review before the new year. This is one of my favorite books of the year. This is an amazing, intelligent, action packed story that I could not put down once I started it. Well, I had to put it down to sleep at some point, but I didn't want to." I'm in your library, stealin' your sleep!

2009 is officially used up, and I've made jennifer_brozek's (who edits The Edge of Propinquity) Best Reads of 2009 list! Yay! In related news, the first Sparrow Hill Road story is turned in, and should be going live on the 15th of this month. Watch for it!

Finally, for the good of all, here are Ten Words You Need to Stop Misspelling. Thanks to The Oatmeal for educating us all.

And therein endith the random. For now.

First off, huge, huge thanks to everyone who came to the show at the Wayward Coffeehouse. We'd been somewhat concerned that we wouldn't be able to drum up an audience, it being Boxing Day and all, so imagine our delight when we wound up playing to an essentially full house! (If you couldn't attended, snowcoma has posted a lovely and detailed review.) A good time was had by all.

If you're curious about what kinds of things we performed, all three of my albums are currently available through CD Baby, as is Thirteen, the first album by Vixy and Tony. Or you could take a gander at The First Rule of Flying: Songs From The Black II. This is the latest collection of music from The Signal, an awesome Firefly-themed podcast, and includes songs by all of the people previously named. Plus it's free, which makes it an awesome taster.

In literary news, Lurv ala Mode has named Rosemary and Rue as an Honorable Mention for Best Read of the Year. This is a review site run by a reviewer I have come to very much respect, and I'm delighted to be on the list. Maybe next year, I can make it to one of the named slots!

I'll post another review roundup soon. For now, I leave you with the knowledge that 2009 is almost over, and the world hasn't ended yet. Oh, and I made a metric fuck-ton of rosemary shortbread last night. I rule.

Happy winter!