After the panel, I ran into the beauteous Ellen Datlow, and followed her to the hotel bar, where I got to hang out with the estimable Pat Cadigan, she of the truly resplendent hairdo (gorgeous, you should've seen it!). Also Michael Swanwick, whom I mostly managed not to fangirl all over -- I let the man talk, which I think I deserve a pat on the back for. We were later joined by Gary Wolfe, Pat Murphy, Gardner Dozois, Susan Casper, and a host of other delightful folks, which may explain why I stayed in that bar for three solid hours.
We did talk about an anthology project I may work on next summer, and they kindly helped me think through some key aspects, so that was great. And we talked about various sfnal literary movements, and various excellent texts (Swanwick and I went off on an extended Rudyard Kipling riff, with Cadigan chiming in periodically.) Datlow and I debated the definition of diaspora -- I think I convinced her. Maybe. But mostly, I think you could call what we were doing gossiping. Which I suppose is an integral part of any writerly convention.
It was awesome, but when Jed joined us, I found that I was running out of energy. We made it to Ernie's, where a host of writer-types were drinking and giving out books, and I got to talk briefly to Saladin Ahmed, Marco Palmieri, John Scalzi, Arin Komins, etc. and so on, and I'd like to write something witty about all of those lovely folks, but my brain is melting. Marco was very helpful, and John was reassuring about something I'd been fretting about, and it was all nice, but getting sort of blurry. And no, I haven't had any alcohol today.
Con fatigue is setting in. There are still so many interesting people here to talk to, but I am losing the energy to initiate conversations. Have I mentioned, WorldCon is BIG??
After our brief visit to the bar, Jed and I wandered over to the mall, and visited the Disney store where we ended up getting Kavi both Merida and Queen Elinor dolls + a copy of Brave (see, I told you I was going to be pushing the positive curly-hair images). We did not get her a Merida outfit (including bow and arrows), but if she decides she likes this movie, maybe for Christmas. I have failed to find Anand a suitable souvenir so far, but perhaps I will find him something at the Alamo tomorrow. Hm. Perhaps the kind of souvenir they're likely to have at the Alamo will not be the best for an almost-4-year-old child?
And then we ate bad pizza and surprisingly delicious falafel in the food court, and then we came back to the hotel and stopped in the lobby to talk to Mari Ness, the Lightspeed editors, and various authors for a bit, but really, my brain was melting. So even though there approximately gazillion parties going on RIGHT NOW, I am tucking myself up in bed with the last of Rothfuss's _The Name of the Wind_.
Goodnight, my dears, my darlings. There will be more conventioning tomorrow!