Before I begin my recap, I’ll post this picture — not a macro, as I couldn’t get close enough in the swamp, but I’ve found a number of ootheca egg cases around these parts lately. Seven in easy sight (this being one of them), which means that I expect a MIGHTY PROLIFERATION of PRAYING MANTISES this upcoming season. We had tons of them this last year; those saw-armed motherfuckers were everywhere. They’re wonderful and weird creatures, and I’m excited to one day soon be blanketed in hungry mantids! Literally! All over me!
It’ll be like the SHAPE OF WATER. So romantic.
I have returned from Seattle.
Emerald City Comic Con — I went this year because I wanted to scout it out for a potential 2019 trip. (My big-ass book, Wanderers, drops around that time next year.) I love comic cons as a writer, especially when it’s a con that has a strong leaning toward a robust literary track. And ECCC does the magic with tons of panels and signings and the writer’s block area — plus the sublime University Bookstore keeping everything running like clockwork.
It was nice. It was chiller than most comic cons — not dead, not quiet, but you could move, you could breathe, you didn’t feel smothered by the sweaty press of encroaching pop culture fandom.
Thank you to all who came out!
Various good things happened.
E.K. Johnson once again sneaked contraband Canadian chocolate to me. (Sorry, America, but your chocolate can go to hell.)
Adam Rakunas and Dan Moren know the power of big pig teeth, and the seductive diarrhea stylings of Max Kiss.
Sarah Gailey and I, just by meeting, will now take over the world, it’s just how it’s gotta be, and also it may feature money laundering.
John Rogers made sure to let us know that 95% of what we see is an articulated hallucination curated by our own minds, so that’s oddly comforting.
Annalee Newitz will lead you to excellent hamburgers which is the perfect way to wind down a con of this magnitude.
I met Ricky Whittle (aka Shadow on American Gods) in the SyFy Green Room whilst there with Delilah S. Dawson and he is a pure beacon of sexy light. He’s super nice, and super hot, and my gods, give him all the money and the acting roles.
Had a great signing at Brick & Mortar Books in Redmond, WA — a truly wonderful bookstore, like, chef-kissing-fingers good.
I got my Piggy & Pug signed by Anne Wheaton — which we’ll pretend is for my six-year-old but don’t think I didn’t read it, too. Also managed a bonus Wil sighting, which is always a considerable pleasure.
Myke Cole hunted a basilisk that was chasing Sam Sykes down a hotel hallway. He speared it with a fountain pen and then kicked its brains out of its head, it was really something.
Seanan McGuire again reminded me that one day she will hunt me through the corn, but then she also invited me for tacos, which I now think was probably a ruse to hunt me in the corn.
Ken Lowery let me know I’m a Spooky Boy.
Chris Sebela stroked his beard at me.
I won a trivia contest.
Tee Franklin owned the shit out of that show, sold all her Bingo Love, but keeps on hustling, because that’s how she kicks ass.
Thanks too to the Pride Squadron of Seattle for having me out and giving me a tour of the 501st setup there at the con.
And, of course, I get to see some of my favoritest people in the world, some bonafide buddies like Kevin Hearne, Delilah S. Dawson, Jason Hough, Kace Alexander — people who both in and out of writing are awesome people doing awesome things.
And I think that’s it. I’m quite sure I’m missing something or someone, which is not because I don’t love you, but because my brain is like a bucket of crabs struggling for dominance, it’s just madness and claws, man, madness and claws.
Again, thanks for coming out.
I signed a bunch of books. Life is good. I’m riding high.
But I gotta get back to work, because the work abides.
Here is one more macro — this one, vanilla beans, very, very close up, smeared on the tip of a small, sharp knife.