Out of Sorts

Confessions of a Lone Zombie Con Attendee.

You’d think that as a zombie, you’d have incredible self confidence. Who doesn’t appreciate our ability to overcome death? It is a real self esteem booster. Yet, I’m not finding that mythos terribly alive at the moment right now.

What?

Why am I sulking? Partly because I’m beginning to think that science fiction/fantasy conventions are only fun if you go with someone. Wait, that sentence isn’t finished. I’m beginning to think that science fiction/fantasy conventions are only fun if you go with someone who is attached at your hip ninety five percent of the time.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for going places by myself, like lynchings and movies or even out to grab a bite of a favorite restaurateur. Yet, as I sit here at ReaderCon in the busy Burlington, MA Marriott, I miss having company.

There is no one with whom to digest panels (and panelists).There is no one with whom to go over old books in the dealer’s room and casually wink at something hoping the other person gets the hint to buy it for you, only biting off their fingers when they don’t cue-in to your signals. (There is no one to correct your woefully inadequate zombie run-on sentences.) There is no one to go and eat…with.

I also can’t just chase and brain strange people because it’s like, against all the damn rules at these things. I did find out though, that they’re totally okay with chomping on people with whom you’ve previously worked.

Granted, I am talking to people. I gnawed on Neil Clarke and Sean Wallace’s ears for a good part of an hour. They were tasty.

I even said hi to Mary Robinette Kowal before she was pulled off into a new direction. Yet, I dared not get to close, I’ve heard the rumors about that cursed and powerful Campbell tiara flaying zombies who stand to close.

Mike Allen and I even talked about recent poetry narrations as well while I had him in a headlock, err, I mean had his attention. Sadly, I had to let him go to emcee an award ceremony.They begged. I relented.

Bah. I’ve rambled on way too long, and I fear that as I could have been making new connections had I the self confidence to go after my prey, I mean, had I the self confidence to stop hiding in the corner, er, I mean had I the self confidence to do anything, really. Instead, I chose to bitch.

Don’t look at me like that. Never ever pity a zombie.

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