I spent the last four days in Bristol, Rhode Island, attending NECon 31. This was my fifth or six time at NECon. I’ll have to do the research sometime to figure it out for sure. I know I’ve been to the convention center twice, to Salve Regina once and at least twice at the Roger Williams University campus. Maybe three times. It’s my favorite convention because it’s so low key and relaxing. There’s a core group of people that keep coming back again and again, and enough new blood to keep things interesting. Plenty of traditions, so you know what you’re getting—except when you don’t.
I flew out very early on Thursday morning, Providence by way of Newark. The plane coming into Houston to take me to Newark was 90 minutes late in arriving, which made me nervous because it was then scheduled to arrive 2 minutes before my Providence flight left, from a different terminal. To make matters worse, the counter agent told me the Newark to Providence flights after that were all full. I started making backup plans. AMTRAK from Newark to Providence seemed like the best bet, and would get me in at a decent hour assuming I made the right train. However, the pilot put the pedal to the metal and got us into Newark so that I had plenty of time to make my original connection. Had some fun with Brian Keene and Mary SanGiovanni on Twitter during our travels, racing to see who would get there first.
Getting off the plane in Newark, I got the first indication of how hot it was in the northeast. The prediction for Friday morning in Rhode Island was a heat index of 110°. For that reason, minigolf, the first Olympic event of the weekend was canceled. Can’t have a bunch of writers, especially some who are not as young as they (we) used to be, standing out in the scorching heat for two hours. The backup plan was bowling. I wasn’t sure if I would go.
One tradition a bunch of us always follow is dinner on Thursday night, before anything official starts. After stopping for provisions (was devastated discover that Tim Hortons is no longer in Rhode Island), checking in and moving into my room, I saw Rick Hautala in the courtyard, smoking a cigar by his lonesome, so I went out and shared a small patch of shade under an umbrella with him for a while. Met up with people as they arrived, then went out to Jacky’s Galaxie (yes, that’s how it’s spelled) for dinner with Brian, Mary, Nick and Alexa Kaufmann, Jack Haringa, Jim More, Sarah Langan, the group from ChiZine and Loki. A good time was had by all. One memorable moment came when we threaded together about ten 15″ straws so that Jack could sample a massive (soup tureen-sized) drink at the far end of the table. At first it didn’t look like it would work, but it did. Stayed up until 1 a.m. talking in the bar, which is a veritable all-nighter for me. We missed the saugies, though. They were all gone by the time we dragged ourselves outside.
Woke up earlier than I would have expected the next morning, had breakfast, and talked myself into going bowling. Took Gordon Linzner and Hildy Silverman in my rental car. On the way there, I used my iPhone for directions. When we were in the middle of town, it detected a WiFi hotspot labeled “Lizzie.” As in Lizzie Borden, one of the town’s infamous former residents. Bowled with Rick Hautala, John Douglas, and Dan Foley. Got a perfectly mediocre 84 in my first game. However, in the middle of third frame of the second game, I suddenly found a groove and got two strikes and three spares in a row (after having scored only 1 point in the second frame). Once people started cheering me on, I got nervous and sorta blew the last two frames, but I still ended up with a 117, which was 10 points more than the second highest score all morning, so I won my first NECon Olympics medal, a gold. That’s it in the picture, handcrafted by Artist Guest of Honor Steven Gilberts. It has a steampunk feel to it, and it’s big and heavy, about the size of a hockey puck.
Headed back to the hotel in 95° heat, thankful to have been in an air-conditioned bowling alley instead of outdoors. The lobby and the halls at the hotel were sweltering, but the rooms were cool. Started going to panels. Lots of discussion of new technologies and e-pubs. The “old farts” panel, featuring Rick Hautala, Jack Ketchum, F. Paul Wilson, Brian Keene, and Darrell Schweitzer was fun. After dinner, we had the NECon update and Jack Ketchum was named this year’s Hall of Fame inductee. After that was the mass signing and Hawaiian shirt contest. I was going to bring a couple of copies of The Stephen King Illustrated Companion to sell, but they weighed more than the rest of my luggage, so I ditched them before heading to the airport. Caught up with Stanley Wiater, who I hadn’t seen for a few years. My roommate, Mark Steensland, screened his short film, The Weeping Woman, and I won the drawing for the signed movie poster, so it was a lucky day overall. Followed by more drinking and hanging out in the bar and courtyard. Mark also won the gold medal in darts, though we’ve expressed our wonderment that anyone would think giving sharp-pointed missiles to drunk people was a good idea.
On Saturday morning, I was amazed to discover how sore I was after bowling. I thought it was a sign of getting older. I’m not in terrible shape. I exercise my legs regularly. But my upper thighs were sore. I was glad to hear from a much younger Jason Harris that his legs were sore, too. Guess I don’t use those muscles very much. Then, another tradition: the let’s put Nick Kaufmann on a 9 a.m. panel panel. At 11 a.m. I sat on my only panel, which was about technology as boon or menace to writers. It was with moderated by Matt Schwartz, and I was joined by Jonathan Maberry, Lucien Soulban, Brett Savory and Monica O’Rourke. We had a good discussion. There are pictures on Facebook. Matt Bechtel interviewed the two writer guests of honor, Jonathan Maberry (who I met for the first time, though we’ve corresponded in the past) and Sarah Langan, who I first met at NECon right after she sold her first books. Dinner in the hotel was only iffy at best, so we decided to go back to Jacky’s Galaxie, this time with a much larger group that included Maberry, Chris Golden, the MacIlveen clan, Rick Hautala, John Skipp, Caitlin Kittridge, and many more. In that picture, taken by Brian Keene, I’m at the far end next to Nick Kaufmann. And in this picture, I’m right there, still next to Nick Kaufmann. That’s JT Petty in the foreground on the right, Sarah Langan’s husband, a filmmaker.
Instead of a game show this year, we had Scary-oke, which is karaoke mixed with elements of The Gong Show. Due to internet problems, though, many of the contestants ended up singing a capella. Some were good and some were gonged. John Skipp won the contest with a rousing rendition of The Banana Boat Song. One of NECon’s biggest and most famous traditions is the roast. Each year, some person is chosen by committee to be absolutely skewered by a number of people who are in on the joke. This year, the victim was supposed to be Doug Clegg. At least that was the rumor. Rumor is another part of the tradition. Brian Keene brainstormed all weekend, coming up with material for his contribution. But Doug wasn’t there. He’d show up, we were told. But as the time for the roast approached, no Doug. Someone suggested going ahead with it anyway, roasting him in absentia. Rio Youers suggested that Hal Bodner stand up front as a surrogate. Chris Golden took the idea to Hal, who agreed. It was all arranged.
Except about 12 seconds before they announced who it would be, I got this feeling. No way are they going to roast someone who isn’t here. I had an epiphany. I was sitting next to Brian and Mary and something made me swivel to make room for them to get out. And, indeed, they were the roastees. For the next hour, Chris Golden, Jack Haringa, Rio, Nick, F. Paul Wilson, Craig Shaw Gardner, Monica O’Rourke, Jonathan Maberry, Hank Wagner, Linda Addison, Mike Myers, Jim Moore and Matt Bechtel skewered the living daylights out of the mortified couple. Raise your hand if that’s true. An outsider might think some of the things said are mean, but there are no sacred cows, and there was no end of raunchy jokes, lewd innuendo and on-the-mark ribbing. Nick Kaufmann’s bit was so funny that there was a joke that cracked him up so much he couldn’t deliver it. Chris Golden stepped in to finish the joke and he started laughing uncontrollably. It was a riot. Here is the zombie jug band that serenaded them with outbursts of “brains” under the leadership of Craig Shaw Gardner. That kept everyone pumped up for the rest of the evening. This time we got the saugies, too.
Sunday morning is bitter sweet. The convention starts winding down. There was a panel about inspiration and the town meeting, where the Olympic medals were given out. After that it was time for me to say my goodbyes and head for the airport. This time I was flying via Dulles. Got there on time, but the rest of my trip was delayed by over four hours because of mechanical problems with the inbound flight. I spent all that time in Dulles (thank god for free WiFi) sending out inane tweets about my plight, including the possibility that they wouldn’t let us leave D.C. until the debt ceiling crisis was resolved. Finally made it home about 11:30 pm instead of 8:00.
Tired by reinvigorated by a great convention and all that camaraderie. I feel like I gained five pounds in four days. I actually got a little “work” done, in the form of networking over some future projects. Now it’s back to the real world. That got off to a good start with an acceptance letter for one of the short stories I wrote recently. That was gratifying. I’m very fond of that tale, which is a sequel of sorts to another that I penned a year or so ago.
Another two editing passes through the new short story this morning. One pass usually ends up being a “flow” revision, where I suddenly discover that everything is okay, but it’s all in the wrong order. I move paragraphs around. I move sentences around within paragraphs. And all of a sudden it all falls into place and the thing flows from beginning to end. It’s an interesting process. Reminds me of the possibly anecdotal story about the famous writer who managed seven whole words one day, except he wasn’t sure of the order.
I finished the first draft of the new short story on Sunday. Came in a little over at 2650 words. Then I did a slash and burn edit. Lots of black ink on the pages when I was done, most of it not from the laser printer. Trimmed it back to 2500 words but many of them were different words. Keyed in the changes this morning and did another editing pass that cut it back to 2400 words. Still needs some polishing, but it’s almost ready to send out. I want to get it off before I leave for NECon.
Didn’t make it to the end of the short story this morning, but I’m almost there, and I can see it in my head. Up to 1800 words. First draft should come in at 2500 or so, I guess. Gotta finish it this weekend.
I intended to finish the first draft of my new short story this morning but instead I ended up rewriting the thousand words I already have down. Something I watched last night inspired me to flesh out certain details in a different way. Also, I had been groping my way around the story when I wrote those three or four pages and now that I understand the story better, they needed work.
I’m about halfway through the new short story in progress and I just discovered what it’s really about. I often think I know what it’s about, but sometimes I figure out along the way that it’s actually about something else. Funny, that. I have no idea how that happens. After I finished the morning session, I started thinking about the main character and his sidekick and I understood what they were going through and what parts of their lives might come bubbling to the surface as a result. Fascinating. Hastily scrawled notes on a Post-It note for tomorrow morning’s session.
Yesterday afternoon, I heard thunder rumbling. Normally an ordinary sound here in the summertime, but not this summer. Then the light coming through the windows took on that unique amber color that heralds an afternoon storm. Then I heard the rain. Looked out the front window: heavy downpour. Looked out the back window: nothing. It was raining on one side of the house and not the other. It eventually started in the back yard, too, and both the front and back lawns got a good soaking, which they desperately need. But it was odd for a few minutes.
Still working on the Cemetery Dance column. It’s coming together very well. It even has segues and transitions and stuff like that. I didn’t notice that at first, but as I built it up out of pieces I noticed sort of an arc that I was able to reinforce by moving sections around.
How to tell when a novel captivates you: I woke up at 7 a.m. yesterday and decided to read more of a manuscript on my iPad before getting up. Until 8 a.m., I told myself. When I next checked the clock it was nearly 9 a.m. and I kept reading until nearly 10:00. Yes, it was that good.
Seventeen years ago, on the July 4th weekend, I drove back from a business trip to Atlanta. Took me all day, but it was worth it. On the day after I got home I met face-to-face, for the very first time, the woman who a little over a year later would become my wife. Our first meeting was at the Hard Rock Cafe. After the meal, we went to Rice Stadium to see The Eagles for their “Hell Freezes Over” concert.