Good Friday (Crap Saturday, Worse Sunday)

Ah, conventions. So much fun at the time ... But like aeroplanes, where you're stuck in a confined space while everyone's breath is recycled around you, you never know what you'll come away with.

In my case, flu.

Started to spiral into illness on Saturday, and Sunday was a complete write-off. Today I'm achy but functioning - the burning throat's a bonus.

Anyway, Swancon. That was quite enjoyable actually. Turned up nice and early to watch my fellow Voices scribes Shane Jiraiya Cummings and Martin Livings taking part in a panel on horror writing, then settled down for some lunch, beers and a chat. Almost everyone there'd been at this writing lark for longer than I have, and gave me some very good advice about available markets to pitch to now that I've got a bit of time on my hands. I'll be looking into all that once I'm not-sick.

The signing itself was, at least, more of a success than Spinal Tap's ill-fated public appearance. The organisers contrived to sit the four Voices authors on different tables, and even after a reshuffle we only managed to get three of us grouped together - Martin, Sonia Marcon and myself.



But for all that we sold a couple of books, had a laugh and no one threw fruit at us. So I'd call that a win.

Next up - a rewrite and polish on a story I was talked into resubmitting for an upcoming anthology ... even though it's been knocked back twice. Third time's the charm, right?