Woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head. Breakfast with the Wordos, or at least a significant subset thereof. Crashed a panel on Writers of the Future. Did time at the autographing tables. Did a reading, of "Hard Times in the State of Nature" and "The Philosopher Clown" [ Tangent Online review ], from The River Knows Its Own [ Wheatland Press ]. Had a quick lunch, then did the Writers' Workshop, then met up briefly with jeffsoesbe in the bar for a good chat on writing, then ran the Petrey Auction with Jerry Kaufman, did a panel on Ethics in Publishing, grabbed a quick dinner, the went on stage for "Whose Line Is It, Anyway" with madrobins and a couple of other lunatics. Followed by partying with folks too numerous to mention, assuming I can unwind my head enough to recollect. Surely there will be more photos to follow.
I have no voice today1, lasirenadolce is on the verge of being rather sick, and we're about to get on a plane to Texas with the_child. Just another day in the life of the working writer, I guess.
1: Important safety tip. Spending 3+ hours of time in the middle of an otherwise crowded Con day being a front man is hard on the voice. Not to mention being the everything else.