Post-Convention Fragments and the Not Me

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The first convention of the year (for me) is in the books and I’m already exhausted for the year. Motor City Nightmares is proving to be the Little Engine that Really, Sorta Wants To, and every year they get a little better.

I get to see my vendor friends, look cute all weekend, and see celebrities. This year, I even managed to con one into taking my money in exchange for a photo and autograph.

Doug Bradley is wickedly funny, and only looks shorter, but I'm in heels.
Doug Bradley is wickedly funny, and only looks shorter, but I’m in heels.

I wanted my bladder buddy, Dee Wallace’s autograph too, but she packed up early on Sunday so I missed her. I did have lunch next to Heather Langenkamp at the hotel restaurant, and Michael Rooker asked us “iz mah bear secksay” after he bought a Scare Bear. The staff was friendly, we weren’t next to any bands, and I didn’t get groped. Stellar weekend for me.

It’s not easy being a Author Vendor at a convention. You can see it in the eyes of convention-goers – OMG WURDS – and they scoot along by as fast as they can, without making eye contact if they are able. For my part as a GLAHW member and Booth Bunny, I’ve been working on my pitch – how I want to relay to them that we’re local, awesome, and the chicks attached to the boobs they keep staring at are perfectly capable of writing scary, entertaining stories they would enjoy for tens of minutes.

It’s hard, especially when you’re not a celebrity people want to see, or have cool collectibles people want to fondle. I sell words that have to be read with the eyes; I’m pushing a commodity that requires focus and effort to enjoy. I have exchanges like this:

Person: You write horror and you’re a girl. Wow.
Me: *twitch*

S’okay. Not being buried under the rigors of the expectation of success relieves some of the pressure. *sigh*

Anyway, Motor City Comic Con is in may and we’ll start all over again – smiling at people when they pass, engaging them when they pick up a bookmark, doing a secret little dance when they buy something. I’m not really complaining, because convention season makes this writing thing tangible for me – the interaction I normally avoid gets tossed and for a few weekends a year, I’m someone completely different – outgoing, charming, funny, flirty, and confident.

It’s the Convention Not Me Season, and it’s something I definitely look forward to.

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Just this fox. I'm a writer of horror and dark fantasy. I totally don't brag about it. The latter statement is an utter lie.
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