I ran into J.V. Jones, who i hadn’t know was coming, and must have publisher her first novel at twelve. Sean Wallace of Prime Books and I exchanged quips about slush and rejection letters we wished we could write, I hope no listening took either of us too seriously.
Alan Dean Foster was quietly conversing with someone who’s name i didn’t catch when we got on the elevator. He doesn’t look like your typical fan/author or editor.
Tempest accosted me and insisted i buy and read a book by a lovely lady at the con, i accomplished the first and am working on the second.
Jay Lake is dressed in his usual subtle hues and reserved finery.
Oh yes, and my body dislikes being this far from the ocean, the air here is way to dry.
The mass autograph session last night was chaos incarnate. While nearly everything else here has been well organized, one or two people reported that it would have been a might easier on those not signing if things were alphabetized. As it was, David Hartwell was sitting next to Lois Bujold, George R. R. Martin was sitting next to David Anthony Durham, J.V. Jones and David Coe were rubbing elbows, and David Duncan was sharing air with Sarah Hoyt, Dan Hoyt and Kate Paulk.
More news when (and if) i wake up.