(*disclaimer: If I forget to mention you, or a certain event, it’s not personal. It means: I’m still foggy while recovering from my flu and/or I’m a horrible person who sometimes forgets the names of his own children, no really, it’s true*)
Due to Cole’s rescheduled baseball game, the day was a wee bit hectic. Me and kiddies picked up Laird Barron at Logan at 9am, then drove to Copley Square, parked, and gave Laird a brief walking tour of Boston. We walked down Boylston, through the public gardens, the common, past the state house, and to Faneuil Hall and Quincy Market for expensive tourist lunch, then down Beacon Street back to the car. Perfect weather for the trek, and my kids and Laird were remarkably well behaved.
From there we drove to the Readercon hotel in Burlington, dropped of Laird, and headed back home so Cole could eat a quick dinner then go to his game. Not exciting, but all the running around explains how I could show up to the hotel later than night for my reading, without my glasses. Grrrr.
I got to the hotel in time to meet friend Kurt Dinan, who is in fact slightly taller than I am. Pictured below:
Thursday night was all readings, all the time. Laird’s first (which was very well attended), then F. Brett Cox‘s reading from a novel in progress, and my reading at 9:30. I gave an “ADD reading,” reading two small chapters from The Little Sleep, a chapter from The Harlequin and the Train, and for the first time anywhere, I read the first chapter to No Sleep till Wonderland. Decent amount of people in the audience, and I gave out an assortment of free books (copies of my older collections and anthologies) to those who stayed for the reading. If you weren’t there, you totally missed out on the free swag, man!
I couldn’t stay at the hotel that night (had to go home so I could bring the my kids to my sis-in-law’s house the next morning) but I spent the rest of the evening haning with JoAnn Cox (writer, con planner, and tireless administrator of the Shirley Jackson Awards), Kurt, Laird, Brett, and more. Pictures below curteosy of Ellen Datlow.
(me and JoAnn)
(me lamenting my missing glasses)