Sunday 9 August
“Like gay men taking over a lesbian bar”: YA author Fiona Patton describing how media fans moved in on the literary sf scene in the late seventies, post-Star Wars, at a panel on writing for teens, moderated by yours truly. This was meant to include Eoin Colfer who hadn’t been seen for the entire convention – the latest report was he hadn’t checked in. Speculation was rife, including that he may have unwisely told an immigration officer he was here for business, been unable to produce a work permit, and been bundled on the next flight out again. Apparently it happens. Cons are not business, even for working authors. They are Fun.

Before that, the annual ecumenical service led by excellent the Rev. Randy Smith. I wish our vicar was called Randy because he always starts his services with “I’m Ron, I’m the vicar …” I know, I know, it’s just short for Randall and Randy is a top guy.

The afternoon was the back-to-back bluffing with me on two panels I don’t actually know that much about: the Napoleonic wars and science blogging. I obeyed my mother’s instruction to let everyone know my 3xgreat-grandfather has his horse shot from under him at Salamanca. But Steve Stirling and Walter Jon Williams could manage quite well on their own. Still, my knowledge of things Napoleonic is encyclopaedic compared to my science blogging savvy. I could say I follow Ben Goldacre’s Bad Science site, but I still got a tinsy bit confused and thought he was the one being sued by the chiropractors, despite having signed the petition and told you all about it.

Meh.

At the end we were each asked what we’d like to see in the future of science blogging. This being an sf convention, I proposed that an artificial intelligence – say, Skynet, if it wanted a more useful outlet for its activities – could produce a web page of 10 random facts a day. But, each fact would be impeccably researched and linked, free of all political and financial bias, so that the interested reader could drill down and find out the absolute truth. Co-panelist Chad Orzel, one of the two professors up there with me, thought this was good idea, so I will plug him and his forthcoming book How to Teach Physics to Your Dog.

Saturday 8 August
A day of unexpected highlights from items I wasn’t too sure about.

Patrick Rothfuss, Brandon Sanderson, Nalo Hopkinson, Doselle Young and me did a panel on “Archetypes and Stereotypes”, exploring the fine lines that distinguish them and also working out where “cliché” fits into the equation. And I don’t know how well we satisfied the audience but it was great fun – a lot of laughing and also a few good points made, though I say it myself. One lady afterwards told me it was the best panel yet, and this guy would seem to concur.

Then there was the signing, at which several people I didn’t already know produced copies of The New World Order and The Xenocide Mission and of course Time’s Chariot. 3/4 ain’t bad.

The one I really didn’t have high hopes for was “Size does matter” – a panel discussion on small presses. 8pm on a Saturday night, most people can think of better things to be doing, especially when it’s scheduled against the Masquerade. I had an invitation to the launch of ChiZine, which essentially said “we’re delighted to see you’re on a panel about the virtues of small presses: please come to our party to celebrate the launch of our small press which is scheduled right against your panel on the virtues of small presses.” Do you begin to see the flaw?

But anyway, the audience eventually outnumbered the panel and the proceedings unexpectedly became pretty well a monologue by Ron Drummond on what sounds like a breathtakingly beautiful museum edition of John Crowley’s Little, Big, to mark its 25th anniversary. Not quite bound in silver-engraved handtooled unborn calfskin but getting there. January 2010, people.

Friday 7 August
The first morning walk of the con – a concept carried over from last year, therefore now in its second year, so it must be a tradition. We assembled by the fountain next to the Palais …

… which every now and then excitingly starts to steam. It seems to be a design feature and not a faulty valve.

Then a nice stroll around Vieux-Montreal. I got chatting to one Colin Harvey, mostly because his badge identified him as coming from Keynsham, which I always confuse with Eynsham and so thought he was relatively local to me. A serendipitous error. With my usual memory for names I had completely forgotten he’s the editor of Future Bristol, review by me appearing in a forthcoming Vector – though I’m glad to say it’s favourable. He’s also an Angry Robot author and invited me to the launch tonight.

Chatting to Farah Mendlesohn, she said that she once shook hands with Michael Foot, and he once shook hands with H.G. Wells. It’s something like the Apostolic Succession. (And I’ve probably shaken hands with Farah.)

First must-see event of the day was the Golden Duck Awards, which were obviously not invented by someone familiar with cricket. They’re a bundle of different awards for younger readers under one title. The Eleanor Cameron Award for Middle Grades went to Lighter Than Air by Henry Melton and the Hal Clement Award was tie with a title I forget and Little Brother by Cory Doctorow. After the awards were given this turned (unexpectedly, but hey) into a panel discussion with all the authors present on writing for teens. This in turn got a little side-tracked with the specific discussion of how much sex you can get away with, but again, hey. And I got to tell Cory about how I once got a speed ticket on his behalf.

The Angry Robot awards in the evening were fun – a not too crowded hotel suite, for a blessed change, and a variety of wine. On the 28th floor of the Delta Hotel, a woman was observed freaking out because CBC News had just announced to the nation that the 28th floor was the party floor. Fortunately Angry Robot was on the 22nd. Anyway, I thought that if all the various bid parties stationed runners in the lobby to catch the hordes as they came in, they could make a killing.

Didn’t get to see the carnage, though, because at 9pm I was on “Just A Minute” back in the Palais, with Tom Galloway, Steve Green and Dave Clements, Nicholas Parsonsed by Paul Cornell. Maybe I’d had a bit too much wine, maybe my reactions are slow: for whatever reason I floundered a little even on subjects like Narnia and Gerry Anderson, before rallying disgracefully on Servants of the Wankh. My fourth place was made a bit more respectable with the help of my competitors. (Beep. “He needs the points.” Beep. “I agree.”)

Said subject had also been a title in the previous night’s charades, which I didn’t get to. Hint for anyone doing this in the future: you can get a similar effect with Obi-wan Kenobi.