Surprisingly enough, the longer the convention goes on, the later a start we all get. I’m sure this has nothing to do with recovering from the best Gross Out contest ever (which I was going to enter until I found out it was up against my panel. Wrath told me to either enter next year or he’s stealing my idea); or the fact that with four of us rooming together (myself, Simon Wood, Chesya Burke, and Lauren David), we weren’t falling asleep until around six in the morning. However, it’s usually Day Three that I buckle down and get down to the “business” of the con.

-panels (each year I go to fewer and fewer, usually only the ones that I’m on, should be on, or allow me to check out some folks I’m needing to network with). I was only on one panel where I basically rehashed my writing the other blog. Though I wanted to argue about things the horror market can learn from the Dark Dreams anthology series.

-pitches. Ah, the familiar mild anxiety that comes with preparing to do my novel pitches to agents and editors. Remembering the lessons of being a professional, the keys to pitches are treat it like a job interview (because it is) and rehearse your pitch before hand.

That night was the Stoker Award Banquet (read: stand around and look pretty):

And now for a quick game of non-sequitur Simon (Wood) says, because he knows how to talk to the ladies:

-“You smell like carrots.”

-“I can’t remember what you used to look like, but you look good now.”

-“If you check under your fingernails right now, you’d find little chunks of Simon.”

-“That’s a lovely fisherman’s shirt. It’s a Perfect Storm sort of shirt. I can see Marky Mark riding the waves in that. But, really, I like it.”

-“Maurice Broaddus? Who the f@&k; is he?”


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