Last weekend I joined hundreds of writers, editors, agents, artists, booksellers and fans in exotic Columbus, Ohio to celebrate fantasy literature at the annual World Fantasy Convention.
For anyone who is interested in this kind of literature, it was a blast. My favorite moment at these conventions is always when I walk into the room where the mass-autographing is being held. Inside a large room, pretty much all of the writers who are in attendance at the convention are sitting at tables, and everyone who might want an autograph, or even just to meet and maybe talk with one or another of them can see and be close enough to say hello to one or more of the many, many writers sitting at those tables.
It's a heady moment. In a way, it's daunting, because there aren't just a few authors at these autographing sessions. There are dozens--more than a hundred for sure, and quite possibly more than two hundred, though I confess I didn't take the time to count--of writers there. And this event only goes on for about three hours. So how can one possibly meet everyone there? That's how it's daunting.
And it's heady for the same reason. So many authors who have written so many wonderful stories, novels, books . . . so many great experiences, so many memories that have enriched the lives of all of us readers.
That was the high point of the convention for me, but there were lots of other high points. I got to meet Freda Warrington, the author of Elfland and the about-to-be-published Midsummer Night, and seventeen other books. It was exciting to meet Freda, and her husband Mike Llewellyn. I've been editing her books for a few years now. But more to the point, I've been reading her books for more than twenty years . . . but none of them was available here until we (Tor Books) published Elfland last year. And this was the first convention Freda and Mike had ever attended in the U.S.
For anyone who has attended this convention or other SF / Fantasy conventions, meeting authors is one of the great pleasures, whether you're a reader or connected to the business of publishing in a professional way. I think a lot of people who don't work in publishing must expect that meeting authors is no big deal for editors. But the silly fact is that editors are readers. We get all geeked out when we meet authors. It's one of the great perks of he job.
People who catch me in the act of editing in a public place--on an airplane, in a hotel lobby, in a restaurant or an airport waiting lounge--will ask me what it is that I'm doing. And when I tell them that I'm a book editor, they often--especially if they're people who themselves read books--think I have the best job in the world.
They immediately construct their image of my daily activity. I'm not making this up: it happens over and over. They think that I spend my days communing with the muse, gorging my hunger for reading on the most brilliant, entertaining books imaginable . . . all while relaxing in my spacious, well-ventilated office, sipping a double-mocha latte or a mint julep.
Whereas the truth, as I explain to their dismay, is that my days are spent in an office, doing administrative work--checking authors' corrections; negotiating contracts with agents; putting through check requests; writing catalog or jacket or cover copy; answering questions about every aspect of every book that I'm working on.
I read and edit when all editors tend to get most of their reading and editing done--at night, on the weekends, and very, very occasionally during the day, when I have taken a day off from the office because something absolutely must be finished very, very fast.
Which doesn't mean I don't enjoy what I do. It is, to me and to most of the editors I know, the best job in the world. But it's not as cushy as people might think. And if you've ever seen me, you've seen the circles under my eyes . . . the product of editing late into the night on many, many occasions. Hey, it's quiet late at night, the kids are asleep, the phone doesn't ring.
But as I said above, meeting writers is great fun. I also got to spend time with writers I've met before, but with whom I don't get to hang out all the time because we live in different parts of the country or the world. So I got to spend time with people like Pearl North (Anne Harris), the author of Libyrinth and the about-to-appear The Boy from Ilysies, her first two Young Adult novels. And there were lots of other authors I got to see and spend time with--including David B. Coe (who survived writing the novelization of Ridley Scott's Robin Hood early this year, Michele Lang (whose first fantasy, Lady Lazarus was published in September) and Blake Charlton (whose first fantasy Spellwright was published in April--three more of my favorite fantasy writers.
One of the other neat things about the World Fantasy Convention is seeing other people responding to books written by authors I have worked with.
I know this is vain and self-serving, but the fact is that editors don't get rich. We get our kicks in strange ways, like seeing the books we've edited come out and get nice reviews, watching readers approach the authors and being enthusiastic about the books the authors have written. So seeing all these writers, all of whom have written books that I've edited, be approached by appreciative readers was just a big kick for me. I know--it doesn't take much to make me happy.
I can't speak for other editors, but I always worry for my writers. Especially those who are really new. So it was especially nice to see Freda and Michele and Pearl be embraced by people at the convention. David B. Coe is different--he's a chick magnet, and for years I have tried to figure out his secret, but I'm still trying. I guess it's a combination of his marvelous fantasies like the Blood of the Southlands and his previous series . . . and his boyish good looks. But Freda and Michele and Pearl are all pretty recently published, so it was really neat when they all reported to me that people had copies of their books and wanted autographs and attended their readings.
One of the things that happens at World Fantasy is that everyone attending gets a big Bag O' Books when they pick up their badges. And I mean a big bag. Really. It weighs at least fifteen pounds--probably more, and contains at least ten books, probably more.
We Toroids gave the convention bunches of copies of various books for the BBOBs, including Libyrinth and Elfland. And I got a real kick when I discovered that people were fighting over copies of both books. Because they really wanted those particular books, and they weren't in every single BBOB. Nothing warms the cockles of an editor's heart like seeing people fighting over books they've edited.
There were lots of other fun moments during the convention, including the evening when I was stood up by two old guys with whom I was supposed to have dinner, so I instead ended up at dinner with five lovely young female Young Adult fantasy authors. It was a grave responsibility, but I manfully made the great sacrifice--after all, I could have eaten dinner alone, but instead I spent the time getting to know these talented writers. I know that Tom Doherty, our peerless publisher, must have been proud of the sacrifice I made that night.
But serioiusly, yes, despite the fact that it was a lot of work--talking, talking, talking, speaking on panels, and going back to my hotel room to edit when I wasn't doing something else--I did have some fun. Joan couldn't come (she's been recovering from the stomach flu and related problems), and she warned me that I'd have fun. I protested that I wouldn't, but I have to confess. I did have fun.
I also didn't get enough sleep, and I especially didn't get much sleep Sunday night after I flew to New York for the meeting we had in the Flatiron Building this morning. Hours before my alarm was to ring, maintenance people started drilling holes in some wall somewhere near my hotel room. I thought I was dreaming the horrible, dull but persistent sound of a drill bit biting through drywall and wood . . . but then I woke up and realized the sound was real.
I'm sure I'll get more sleep tonight, though, and when I get home to Wisconsin tomorrow night.
Altogether, I think that the convention was fun for most of the attendees. Part of the fun was knowing that they would announce and present the World Fantasy Awards. And while this makes all the nominees nervous (and, if we're honest, those whose works weren't nominated a little jealous), it also makes the winners very happy, and I like to think that everyone present is happy to congratulate the winners.
The awards have been announced and can be easily googled, but I'll just say that I was especially pleased and also moved when Gene Wolfe accepted his award for the best story collection. He's been writing great stories for more than forty years, and when he accepted the award, he got very emotional. He's had a difficult few years, and I was, like pretty much everyone there, enormously pleased for him and glad to be part of the standing ovation we gave him. And his brief but moving acceptance speech was one of the highlights of the banquet on Sunday. I unfortunately had to leave the banquet just before they presented the Life Achievement awards, and I wish I could have spent time afterwards saying goodbye to people. But I would have missed my plane if I'd stayed longer . . . I was luckier than some who had to leave Sunday morning, before the banquet.
As always, the weekend (o.k., my trip started Wednesday . . . the long weekend) was like a big, rowdy family reunion, a ritual gathering of the clan, the strange clan of which I've been a member for these nearly forty years. Strange, and fond.
