Happy Halloween! A big part of me is really wishing I were back home right now instead of up here in DC, so I could see Lizzie off to work and get to see firsthand her costume. She's using my old high school football jersey as part of her costume as a football player. I hope she put those black anti-glare things on her cheeks, below her eyes to make her look authentic and tough! I hate that I'll miss that, as well as seeing the kids all dressed up. Our nephew Parker is going as a fireman. At least I'll get to see the photos.

Fortunately, nobody here at World Fantasy is wearing costumes (although it's pretty easy to tell the fans from the writers in most cases -- the fans sort of have this unspoken uniform: for guys it's suspenders and sometimes a hat, for the ladies it's pants pulled up a few inches too high and/or anachronistic clothes. I know I shouldn't make fun, and I'm not really, just making an observation). It's been a good con so far for meeting fellow writers. Jason Lundberg and I arrived here about 6 p.m., found our way up F Street to the hotel with Dan Reid, and immediately passed Jay Lake going up the escalator while I was going down it. He was off to do a reading for the Thackery Lambshead book of diseases ("my story is essentially a 600-word fart joke") and I wouldn't run into him again until 11 or so last night.

We wandered down the bar, where I made the mistake of ordering a $6.50 beer, and saw who was all here. Charles de Lint and his wife and Charles Vess and the rest of their posse had a couple tables, and Gordon van Gelder and his crew had another. I saw Lucius Shepard and a couple other folks, including Deb Layne, I believe, at another table.

Then we decided to risk the hotel restaurant, and we fortunately ran into Alan DeNiro and Kristin Livdahl along with a Clarion classmate of theirs, Larry Taylor, and Jason and I joined them for dinner. Alan and Kristin are a lot of fun, great to talk to about writing and work and politics, and they shared their wedding photos, which were great. How many people do you know played volleyball before their wedding?

After dinner I started running into more folks I knew, finally meeting Jenn Reese, who's super-cool, and saw Ben Rosenbaum again, and we went to his reading (which I liked, but I got really tired during it as all the day's events caught up to me, sorry Ben! No offense!). I also kind of got the feeling that this whole con thing was sort of going to be a bust, but I think a big part of that negativity was because I hadn't had a chance to talk to Elizabeth, and I really wanted to. Going to cons alone like this is weird, and I guess I have twinges of guilt, leaving her home alone while I'm out having fun. It's silly, I know.

After the reading we headed up to the con suite for the Interstitial Arts get-together, and there were tons of folks there. It was quite cool, though I'd have loved to have had a discussion of IA and their beliefs and so on. (From Monday -- I just realized that the woman serving wine at the ICFA get-together was Holly Black, whose novel TITHE I bought after hearing people rave about it all weekend. Crazy!).

On our way up to this party I finally caught up to a very tired but still hilarious Jay Lake, got to see Susan Groppi again, and felt the good con vibes return. It's nice to have a posse.

Other folks I met or saw again over the course of the evening, at the party or back in the bar area, included the inimitable Frank Wu (who's always a blast to talk to), Patrick Swenson (editor of Talebones and a cool guy and what sounds like an excellent high school English teacher, good man), Jeff Turner and Gary Jonas and a writer from Texas whose name I've forgotten, Karen Meisner, John Sullivan (who's chasing down his dream, thanks to his cool, cool wife), Tempest, Celia Marsh, Aynjel Kay, Ted Chiang, and Tom Doyle, to name a few.

Oh, and of course, the first person I met was while I was waiting in line to check in -- Sarah Hoyt and her husband Dan! I came up to her and asked if she'd be waking people up with her singing (as she did at the Oregon workshop last summer). She gave me a big hug, once she realized who I was (she claims that I'd lost weight and my face looked different -- I blame the haircut!). I got to chat with her husband Dan later at a party, and we discussed novel-writing and 3-story houses. Lots of cool people and excellent writers.

This morning, after crashing about 1 a.m. last night, I woke up wide awake at about 5:30. I tried to get back to sleep, but there's no fighting those circadian rhythms. I got dressed, grabbed my laptop, and slipped down to the lobby, where I am right now, in a nice little nook with a power outlet just off the busy area. Barring any late late drunken nights, I'll be back here Saturday and Sunday mornings. Most programming doesn't start until 10 a.m., so that gives me a nice couple hours of "me" time to pull myself together from all the socializing and more importantly, write.

I finished the first two scenes of the new chapter, moving from the opening scene that describes the footage of an elderly alien's death and what happens after he dies that Ally witnesses, and then the followup scene with Ally trying to edit that footage and put it out on the Netstreams. It came together quite nicely, and I can start to see the third act taking shape. I'm so glad I had time to work on the last section of the second act yesterday on the train, because I feel totally focused on what needs to be done to finish this bad boy.

And of course, being around my fellow writers, I'm completely inspired. I'm truly a writing junkie, in case my waking up after 4-5 hours' sleep to write isn't evidence enough -- I really started to enjoy myself last night once I started talking shop with Jenn and John and Tom and Dan. I'm not good at small talk anymore! But let me chat about writing novels and stories, and I'm there. I love hearing other writers talk about their processes. It makes me want to keep on writing, even though listening to Ben's short-short stories at his reading, and the way he's able to stretch his imagination and use all his knowledge to the fullest, I felt a bit unworthy. He's good, that Ben Rosenbaum.

What he does, he does really well, and that's all I need to hope for with my own writing -- to tell the stories inside of me the best way I can, sparing nothing and going balls-out. Otherwise it's just not worth it. With fiction writing, I can afford to push myself hard. I need to. Later!

Today's Words:
1,400

Words for '03:
136,500

Today's Quote:
In the last second of 'stream footage remaining -- before the camera was apparently overwhelmed with light and energy and ceased to work -- the four distracted aliens have turned completely toward whatever it was that had distracted them moments earlier. When the camera freezes for a final time on a screen of white peppered only with faded dots that on further examination turn out to be sets of black alien eyes opened wide, the twelve eyes of the distracted aliens are half-lidded, as if preparing for sleep. If you look closely enough you can see their bodies in the process of hunching over, while the others stand tall on two legs, arms outstretched for the energy soon to come from the levitating alien at the moment of his death.

The scene remains locked in that moment, and even the thought of looking away refuses to enter your mind.