Not literally.
I mean, as great as that would be, I am not talking about a goddamned panel that I use for crafting words into stories that read good.
Although, Christmas is coming….
Gets me an Xbox One or I’ll turn GoT into a buddy-cop show starring Arya and The Hound, with Littlefinger as the Chief on their asses
That was me being subtle.
This past weekend, I was invited to participate in a panel at the 3rd annual Anthocon in Portsmouth, NH. As my short story, ‘The Monastery’ was included in the ‘Canopic Jars: Tales of Mummies and Mummification’ anthology put out by Great Old Ones Publishing
Why haven’t you bought a copy yet?
I agreed to go up, as this was an great opportunity for me, as number one, I’ve never done anything remotely like this and I saw it as an opportunity. Number two…well, there really isn’t a number two. Number one was strong enough it counts twice. Deal with it, as my friend once told me after slapping me in the face.
Hey, he just did what we are all thinking.
The panel took place on Saturday morning. Despite having little sleep, zero coffee and suffering from what may or may not have been a tiny mead hangover, I, along with about fifteen of the contributors to the anthology, read the first page of my story.
More talent than you can punch out a yeti with
I thought my read went well, despite my nerves trying to do me in. I just reminded myself that I was amongst friends and colleagues and that no one there thought that I did not belong and that I sucked. Well, at least I hope not anyway!
Hipster Hat gives me strength, like Samson.
After the panel concluded, we went into the main showroom, where dozens of other writers and artists were set up to promote and sell their works. I did not get to mingle as much as I would have liked, as we had to leave fairly shortly after the panel due to another engagement where I may or may not have been contracted to bare-knuckle brawl eight hobos in a row.
Jesus Christ, who wrote this? It’s fucking terribl–ly great!
Plus, I kind of began to feel very self-conscious about myself. Like, I did not belong there. I can’t quite put a finger on why this way, or why I felt that I was not amongst my peers and equals and fellow writers and artists, but that I was some kind of interloper, intruding on a place where I was not welcome nor wanted. This is kind of a recurring theme for me and has been for the majority of my life. It is completely annoying and leaves me filled with regret. In this case, regret that I didn’t network to the best of my ability, regret that I didn’t be more sociable with my fellow writers, regret that, because I didn’t do the first two regrets that I came across as some kind of arrogant douche-bag, unapproachable and rude. Not the image I want to portray, or who I am at all.
I guess the only thing I can do is to try to better next time. Oh, and to keep writing and sending my stuff out. As per my previous posting, I’ve had a rather successful month in terms of publications, something that I do take some kind of pride in.
Still, despite my own inner turmoil, I believe the trip and the panel were successful. The writers I did meet and connect with are amazing human beings, and I got to catch up with some of my old friends and favorite people. All this, AND I got to speak in public in front of strangers to help promote a anthology that said MY story was good enough? I think I came out ahead this time.
Big thanks to Philip Perron, D.B Poirer and Gregory L. Norris, the evil geniuses behind Great Old Ones Publishing for making this a reality, and helping your old pal Kile cross an item of his to-do list, an item he didn’t even realize he had on there.
If this picture doesn’t get you to buy this book, then you clearly don’t appreciate sexy.
Kile the WonderBoy!! 