Thanks to everybody who turned out for the Wild Cards signing today at Page One. Pretty decent turnout, and I think everyone had fun. Many thanks to Craig Chrissinger of ASFS and the Page One folks for putting it together and pulling it off.
I got a decently early (for me) start on the day. Got some good writing done, despite Tweeting too much, and then off I went.
They had us sit in an L-shape facing an array of folding chairs for the audience: Carrie Vaughn, me, Ian Tregillis, Melinda Snodgrass, Daniel Abraham, George RR Martin, Bud Simons, C. L. Spector, John Jos. Williams, and lonely but undaunted non-Wild Carder John Maddox Roberts. Also in attendance were non-writing Wild Cards contributors Parris, Royce Wideman, and Gail Gerstner-Miller.
Walter Jon Williams was headed toward the signing when his car was rear-ended and possibly totaled. The boy just has bad luck sometimes. Apparently he’s intact, which is all good.
We were also privileged to have some other NM writers who aren’t involved in the whole Wild Cards conspiracy show up: Terry England, Arlan Andrews, and Steve Gould.
The fans turned out for us to, as they’re wont to do: Patricia Rogers (without whom no gathering is really complete. Anywhere), Dawn Barela, Mike McCommas, Fred Ream, and Jessica Coyle. Ty was there, sadly sans Jayné, but we’re glad to see him anyway. For the people I didn’t spot or didn’t recognize or otherwise left out: heartfelt apology. Your presence was appreciated. Plus of course the people I don’t know.
My good friend Larry also turned up as our opening Q&A session wound down and provided me some amusement. He wound up standing right next to Terry; I wished I had the chance to tell them to turn to each other and shake hands with a fellow contributor to my Who Slags the Watchmen thread. I did introduce them later.
(Speaking of which, my friend Roslee, who was unable to attend because of a prior engagement to go watch the Watchmen movie with Dante, just texted me that the movie “rocks.” So there’s a datum.)
Terry, kindly, was good as his word, and brought his copy of the graphic novel to lend me. Thanks, Terry. Larry, meanwhile, was generous enough to give me a copy of a book he’d recommended to me and which I’d recently mentioned really wanting to read, Now, Discover Your Strengths
After the signing – Carrie, sitting next to me, was swamped autographing Wild Cards books along with her best-selling Kitty Norville novels; life’s so tough - and socializing, we decamped to the Powdrell’s Restaurant on North Fourth Street for a 7 PM dinner reservation Melinda had thoughtfully made. Powdrell’s is an excellent barbecue place and a local landmark.
It’s also about six blocks from my house. Maybe eight. I’d have walked there if the wind hadn’t been so savage. Since we broke up on schedule around 6, I headed home, let Emma out, wrote some more, did taijiquan, let Emma back in, and headed out again.
Got there at 6:58. And everybody else was like, “You’re late!” Because the signing was clear across town, especially since Melinda, Ian, George, and Parris came down from Santa Fe, Carrie had driven down from Denver, and Caroline Spector and Bud had flown in from Austin, everybody had pretty much just gone straight to Powdrell’s. Or so I gather.
Nothing shaken. Room was found for me. Spent much of the meal listening to John and Bud eruditely discussing old horror and monster movies, which was fun. I enjoy cheapy creepies, especially monster flicks, and both know a lot about them.
Parris proposed an idea which had come to her, especially to John and me, as original Wild Cards Mafiosi; along with Melinda and George himself, frankly, that’s most of the Consortium shares right there. We all agreed that it was a brilliant idea. Sadly, I can’t yet tell you what it was. I will tell you it’s something kind of dear to my heart. Make of that what you will.
After another excellent meal a gentleman came in whom I reckon was the manager. We’d been a pretty cheerful group; he asked what we were celebrating. George told him we’d held a book signing. The manager, who turned out not surprisingly to be a Powdrell himself (they’re a leading Albuquerque family), asked how many of us were authors.
And was kind of rocked on his heels when about a dozen out of maybe 16 people raised their hands. Plus Steve Gould had already split.
He thanked us for bringing our literary selves in. We thanked him for feeding our literary selves. And the gathering broke up.
Whoa. Good day. I’m tired.
Off to bed. Maybe I’ll watch more Firefly. Maybe I won’t.
Ans thanks again to all concerned! For a really lovely time.
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