Supa Princesses and a Much-Needed Multi Pass

Supanova was fun, as per usual. Sure it's crowded, and sure you get to queue a few times, but the atmosphere is always incredibly genial and everyone is there to have a good time. I also like that the attendees are of all age groups, with your tiniest tots (there were two cute sisters dressed up as unicorns, and a couple of small Captain Americas with diminutive shields) mingling with happy groups of young gamers and manga fans made up as their favourite characters, right through to veteran oldies. Comics, artwork, books, movies, games, modelling - all aspects of the scene are covered, and it's a place where those just starting out can sell their wares alongside established artists.

And always, there's a parade of costumes to admire, everything from your Wookies to your Doctors, Mulders, Scullies, Leias, Solos, Vikings, robots of different persuasions, samurai, zombies and zombie hunters, one dragon, many unidentifiable (to me) gamer characters, and much Game of Thrones finery, which enthralled many of the small girls present. One particular knee-high admirer just stood in the busy exhibition hall staring up at four female Throners with an air of disbelief, a huge, blissful smile on her face while her dad looked on, and everyone politely moved around the group and made room for her moment. Every year the cavalcade changes. There didn't seem to be any steampunk costumes  this year, no Daleks or Weeping Angels, there was nary a Star Trek officer to be seen, likewise Resident Evil soldiers and girls wearing fluffy cat ears.

But there were princesses. Disney royalty and the aforementioned Game of Thrones ladies were definite hit this year, though some carried it off better than others. At one point, a pink clad figure came schlepping by, her posture stooped, bags hanging criss-cross over her outfit, and she was rather indecorously downing junk food. I felt she was letting the side down. But the others all seemed to keep their princess personas going no matter what, regularly but discretely touched up their make-up and kept an eye on their hair, and were exceedingly gracious to all the little girls (usually in pink dresses themselves) who ran up to them for a close gander, arranging their big dresses and posing with the star struck kiddies for photos.

I bought a few things, of course, including the obligatory, geeky T-shirt (actually, I got three) and a Leeloo Dallas multi pass to  hang on the odds and sods board over my writing desk. It's a bit of a running family joke, and makes me smile when I see it.

We also attended a talk with Gary Lockwood and Keir Dullea from 2001: A Space Odyssey, and heard all about the brilliance of Stanley Kubrick, Arthur C Clarke anecdotes, amusing and serious information about the making of the film, the public reaction afterwards, and much trivia about Hollywood in the 60s. There were plenty of other guests, the stars of shows from the olden days as well as the latest productions, but after a second whizz around the grounds, we called it a day.

GoT v WD

Hot off the press - there's a game in progress out in the back yard of the house next door. It involves two littlies, and as an ear witness, I can testify that it began thus:

"Look, a dragon!"

"No, a zombie!"

"Dragon!"

"Zombie!"

From a such simple beginnings, it went no further. It continued, and still unfolds with that simple script, though running around in circles and squealing has been added to the routine:

"Dragon!"

"Zombie!"

I await the outcome of this titanic battle with bated breath.

 

Back Where I Belong

After a couple of days of being fed delicious food and recuperating at my sister's place (aah, the mystical healing powers of sitting on a bench in the sunshine and watching chooks potter about), my brother transported me across the state, so now I'm home again.

Say no more.

Except, I don't think I mentioned I got a cute, red plush dragon this time, to go with my cute, pink plush unicorn from last year's slicing and dicing. It was almost worth the pain and bother. If this keeps up (and I hope it doesn't), I might end up with a cute, plush, mythological menagerie.

Best-Laid Plans

Determined to have one last weekend pretending my health is fine before the whole hospital hoopla hits, I headed off to Melbourne for JD’s spec-fic workshop, where things went unexpectedly awry.

My original cunning plan: To use the workshop as an impetus to finish and polish a new story for the final session which would then knock the socks off everyone with its perfectly executed prose, sharp images, sublime dialogue, complete control over characters, wondrous world-building and multi-layered political-fantasy plot – all this, and a dragon too!

What happened: In an impromptu rejig of the schedule, everyone got to read the first, unfinished draft that I submitted at the second session two months ago (to show that I wasn’t cheating and was actually working on something). It was basically a clunky foray into the raw landscape of an idea, and most of it has been deleted, shuffled about or rewritten since then. *sigh* I’ve never ever shown such an undeveloped story to anyone before. I’m thoroughly hardened to people critiquing a finished piece, truly, but to have a whole room full of people eyeing off one's fits and starts and dead ends was just plain embarrassing.  

Of course, in the greater scheme of things, my sensitive writerly ego barely rates a mention. I was actually a bit down on the train trip home. With everyone making plans for the final workshop and arrangements for going out drinks and a meal afterwards, and all the talk of Natcon panels and guests, it suddenly hit me that I really am going to miss out on a great big chunk of life soon. Exciting and interesting things will be happening in the world beyond, but I won’t be able to participate. I have to get used to the thought that for the time being, plans are for other people.

But not to worry - I will get used to the thought. And I will get through it all. And I plan to watch every HBO series and sci-fi box set in the known universe as I do so.

Slowgress Report

The only writing I'm getting done these days is an hour each morning on the train on the way to the Arvo Job. I'm trying to finish up my spec-fic workshop dragon story, but mostly seem to end up pushing around words, killing darlings, and tidying up the sentences I've already written. I don't feel like I'm getting much done, but of course, incrementally, it all adds up.

So, I shall keep prodding the slumbering beast with a sharp stick until it unfurls.

Spring in my Step

After the rush and satisfaction of making a deadline, I'm full of beans and in the mood for finishing and sending stuff, so I looked over all my WIPs on the way to the Arvo Job today and discovered that a couple of my almost-there stories are a lot less rough around the edges than I remembered. My SF werewolf story, for example, only needs a couple of paragraphs in the first half to finish it. I’ve been editing it on and off over the past few months, and lost track of the fact that it's pretty much ready to go. I’ll send it out into the world to howl for its supper this weekend. Then I’ll tackle the harpy story, and try to get her off and flapping by the end of the month.

This means I’ll have a vamp story, a harpy story, a werewolf story, and a tale with dragons out doing the rounds, along with 4 SF stories and 2 other fantasy stories. Given that I used to only write dark, serious, dystopian SF, this is a strange situation to find myself in (though the last two do contain SFish elements i.e. spaceships and “robots”) Still, it's good to try new styles and subjects. It keeps the writing fresh and fun.

And on the subject of dragons, Happy Spring Festival. I’m particularly fond of the Year of the Black Water Dragon for two reasons. Firstly, I get to post a picture of a dragon. Secondly, it represents a certain liberation for me. You see, after a lifetime of snickering and bad jokes because I was born in the year of one of the less charismatic animals in the Chinese horoscope's 12-year cycle, a few years ago I discovered that the day of my emergence in the particular year of my birth actually makes me, you guessed it, a black water dragon, albeit one born in the year of the truly blah, aforementioned unmentioned animal. Yay! I mean, black water dragon sounds so much more impressive than the other critter (which I'm blotting from my mind)

Given that the best thing about superstitions and horoscopes is that you get to pick and choose which bits you like and want to believe, I'm going with this legendary classification rather than the mundane other one.

Having fun, fun, fun.

So I tore apart my chinese steampunk/wuxia story and ditched A LOT of what I wrote on Tuesday, got to know my main character better and designed a stunning wardrobe for her, changed the plot and pumped up the backstory of another character after coming across a scrumptiously must-use piece of information whilst looking up some geographical data, thought of a different and much better ending, and, most importantly, found the story's voice.

Once you've got a story's voice, it's all uphill. And then, eventually, hopefully, it's a downhill cruise :)

Oh, and I stuck in a few dragons. I was trying to stay away from them, but it felt wrong to so deliberately excise them from the tale. They mostly appear in walk-on parts anyway, sort of dragonish guest artists, but they need to be there in the background, otherwise their absence is too distracting. Besides, one should exploit every possible opportunity to pop a dragon into a story, especially if you write a lot of SF.

I love holidays. It's so nice to luxuriate in a new story rather than squishing it in between the daily grind and, sometimes, forgetting to enjoy the process.

And apropos dragons, here's a cool, very musical Oriental Dragon site.

How much is that dragon in the window?

Cutting through town on the way home in the dark of the night, I was surprised to spot this beauty in a shop (take my word for it because this photo doesn't do it justice.) It's as big as me. Ok, some people might not think that's so big, but as ornamental dragons go, it takes up a lot of space. It'd look good in my hallway, welcoming people into the house...

Which reminds me that I should get back to my dragon story, the one with the Ice Queen and the royal plots and royal killings and the royal pain-in-the-butt historical back story that refuses to reveal itself to me.

Decorous dragons and daring deeds

I pray, ladies and gentlemen, do not endeavour to tempt me with volumes that feature hordes of undisciplined undead slaying the landed gentry in their country estates, for I will coolly rebuff you. I consider lady writers such as Miss Austen and the assorted Brontë sisters, if the qualities of their creations in any way reflect the temperaments of those who so skillfully shaped them, to be women of subtle wit and stout character, and so I cherish their literary efforts too much to risk sullying any future readings of Jane Eyre or Pride and Prejudice with unbidden images of fanged fiends and woolly werewolves leaping out at me from between their most well-constructed lines.

That said, I am not in the least averse to a spot of speculative fiction that is liberally salted with Regency manners and peppered with scathing indictments against Napoleon. Indeed, as proof of my pro-Georgian leanings, I submit that I have just finished Empire of Ivory, another novel by that highly esteemed lady writer Naomi Novik, featuring Temeraire, a most remarkable dragon, and his dear captain, William Laurence. This time, the well-mannered and wide-ranging pair journeyed to Africa. Suffice to say, along the way, they encountered ethical dilemmas, endured all manner of physical hardships, bravely battled fearsome foes, and resisted the common prejudices of their times, all whilst keeping themselves impeccably groomed and verbally decorous.

Alas, however, this particular adventure is now over, and I can but metaphorically clasp the closed book to my bosom (for I have already returned said tome to the library from whence it came) and pray that I shall soon be reunited with Captain Laurence and Temeraire, for I fear for their safety and would know their further fates.

Dragons and Daleks

Driving through Bendigo last night, we noticed bright lights and crowds gathered in the main street, so we stopped for a look. The sound of marching bands tipped us of to a parade in the offing. This being the Goldfields Area, and home of the Dragon Museum, you’d expect:

But DALEKS?

Now that's an Easter Parade! (Love the bloke wearing a telephone box and pushing a Dalek pram.)