So it's over.

OK, it's almost over. The final party is tonight, and I'll be saying goodbye to everyone in the wee hours of tomorrow morning before I'm driven to the airport. The post-Clarion post happens after I'm back in Michigan, at the very least. I'm not ready to think of it as a completed experience I can reflect back on just yet.

Meanwhile, Week 6...

#

Vernor Vinge rocks and/or rolls. He's great.

His own background is in math and computer science, but he's a type instantly recognizable from any one who's familiar with analytic philosophy academia. He's hyper-available to students. Every conference he's been in has run way over time since he wants to keep on chatting.

In social settings, he talks hardly at all about himself, but extensively about ideas. He takes an obvious and infectious delight in the argument, bringing up the strongest arguments he's heard mustered against his own position and really fleshing them out, revelling in the game itself more than convincing anyone.

In his famous 1993 paper The Coming Technological Singularity he argued that, "Within thirty years, we will have the technological means to create superhuman intelligence. Shortly after, the human era will be ended." Later in the paper, to be as specific as possible and make himself open to refutation, he specified that, "Just so I'm not guilty of a relative-time ambiguity, let me more specific: I'll be surprised if this event occurs before 2005 or after 2030."

In our conference after we were done talking about my story I asked him if he stuck by those numbers and he joked that he was absolutely sure about the before-2005 parameter...and, more guardedly, he stands by 2030 as well. I told him that I was deeply skeptical but if, in 2030, (a) we were both still alive, (b) the Singularity had occurred, and (c) the ruling AI's still kept bars open and had beer in them, that I would buy him a beer. He in turn expressed devout hope that should all conditions except (b) come to pass, he wouldn't try to say that now he thought it would happen in 2040 or something. You gotta respect that.

#

And, yes, he's an excellent writer. The bits he read from his new novel at the SF Museum on Tuesday were great, alternately heart-breaking and hilarious. I bought a copy of "A Fire Upon on the Deep" for him to sign. (Since we'd been talking about my fourth-week space-opera, which is lizard-heavy, before I askd him to sign it, I got "To Ben, May the Lizards Grant You Wisdom.") Anyway, when I said I'd got "A Fire Upon the Deep," my classmate Tina W. told me I should have gotten "A Deepness in the Sky" instead since it has giant spiders in it and my weakness for all things giant spider-related is notorious at this point. Anyway, she was determined enough that I read it that she actually gave me a copy of "A Deepness in the Sky" last night.

Thanks, Tina!

#

"David and His Zebra" got mixed reviews in crit. Most people thought it was funny, but opinion was divided on whether it would still be funny outside the context of a certain meta-Clarion reference frame that inspired it. I'll have to think about that later.

I also had a good informal second conference with Vernor about "Sing, Goddess" (the space opera), which he was generally positive about and had a lot of good suggestions on.

#

I wouldn't say it was a "boring Clarion" (a label some classes take pride in), but there was zero drama within the group. (No, Virginia, "Week 4" did not happen this year. It's not, as it turns out, a law of nature.) There have been hot nights cooled by multiple wine bottles, consumed by large groups of us in mass couch cuddles and accompanied by hilarious bullshitting sessions about the state of the genre, Bush-bashing, comparative Texas-and-Australia wildlife, whatever, that I've really had to step back in awe about how lucky I am to be here, even aside from improvement in my writing. I can't imagine 16 other people I'd prefer to hang out with for six weeks.

#

I was amazed by the ability of some people to keep their steam up to the point where they were actually able to produce their best stories of the whole workshop in the last week. I've read things in the last few days--jazz odysessies, teen road trips, etc.--that would fit into the quality I'd expect in one of those Nebula anthologies.

#

This afternoonn, we had a mini-graduation ceremony, complete with silly music and diplomas.

And yes, I got my secret decoder ring.

#

They say the most internally cohesive classes produce the highest proportion of pro-writers. (Less distraction, support group, etc.) I hope that's true, since short of orgies and/or mind-melds being in the mix, it'd be hard to imagine a more cohesive class.

And, hey, fucking A, Sangria Night. Can't top that.