Convention Recap 2005

My First Writing.com Convention
2005
by
Chris Henderson

As soon as I heard about the convention, I signed up! I told my husband, and all my friends and the rest of my family, “The Henderson Resort is closed at the end of July, so KMAGYOYO,” (loosely translated: kiss my tutu goodbye, you’re on your own). This was fall of 2004. I was stoked up and burnin’ hot!

Sadly, this turned out not to be just excitement over the coming convention. I spent the rest of fall, all winter, and a large part of spring with bronchitis, sinus infections, pleurisy, walking pneumonia, and a cough that could wake the dead in Timbuktu. (I’m in Calgary.) Eventually, I had swallowed all the antibiotics in Canada, so I was pronounced cured. The cough was declared to be “just one of those things”. What things? Define “things”, you dodo! Not to malign the Canadian medical system unduly, I will just state that it sucks. You know the theory about a zillion monkeys typing, eventually producing the complete works of Shakespeare? Well, that’s who’s writing the medical textbooks and teaching the classes, too.

By early summer I was back on line, deliriously happy, but that may have just been the codeine I was still taking for the eternal cough. Still, it was good to find out who else had signed up for the convention. Imagine my heartbreak when I discovered that one of the people I was most looking forward to meeting had dropped out! My pal Roo wasn’t going after all. Still, many people were going, and I could hardly wait to meet them in person.

I was especially curious about Storymaster and Storymistress. Old, young, tall, short, brunette, blond, serious, goofy, nice, aloof, pretty or beautiful (what IS that sucking sound?), I wanted to know. As it turned out, the answer was yes.

So, gotta get there somehow, having a few frequent flyer miles to spare, I picked an airline, and a departure date. No, wait, I don’t want to arrive at midnight the first day! I’d miss the whole day. Okay, so now I have to make sure I can get a room for the night before, fly in the day before, and everything would be great.

Well, almost. I had to leave before dawn (go with me here, it’s hyperbole, okay?) but that could be done, I’d sleep on the plane. Had to finish my mask before leaving, in plenty of time for the glue to dry, I could do that. Try on my formal gowns, pick one. (Yes, I have several, for those occasions when I have to pretend to be the serious, adult wife of the V.P. of a rather large company. If I could just keep my mouth shut, they’d buy it, too!) Then the coughing started again.

I held out as long as I could, but finally I had to go to the blasted doctor. Yep, I was sick again. My best friend, my true soul-sister, and her husband were due to arrive for a week long visit, and I had to be up and around for that! I couldn’t just go to bed for the next three weeks before the convention. My Kathy was coming. Back on the antibiotics, guzzling cough syrup like I had stock in the company. My husband, Bob, took most of the week off, and we all played tourist for a week. I’m sure I’ll remember most of it eventually.

Then Kathy and her husband had to go home. I cried over that, but then it was time to leave for the convention. The trip was mostly uneventful, which is a real first for me. Most of the time when I fly alone I have an adventure of some sort.

When I got to the hotel I wanted to know what room Vivian Gilbert Zabel was in, but of course the staff wouldn’t tell me (in case I was just a random nut who had paid plenty just to come to this convention and stalk a bunch of near-strangers). Go to my room, have the desk put me through to Viv’s room, leave a message, and go to sleep for a desperately needed nap.

As it turned out, Viv and the gang had gone out for the day, and had dinner already, so I ate and then caught up with them later. What a riot! I met Jacque Graham and Marvelous Melia, and the four of us talked for ages. We all have Oklahoma and Cherokee ancestry in common.

The next day the convention started. We registered and got name tags, a goody bag with the Writing.com logo on it, and a T-shirt, and a yearbook with bios of all the attendees (with space for sigs, of course), a pen, a coffee mug, a deck of cards, a mouse pad, three books (more on those later), and yummies. In fact, the entire convention was like being on a cruise ship: munchies available morning, noon, and night.

I spent the afternoon talking to people, there were new folks coming in every few minutes. I entered the “guess how many in jar contests”, of which there were three, (jars, not items in jars, duh), and looked over the books I had received. These books were for reading and/or trading, and then there were some books which were part of yet another contest. There would be one of these little brown-paper-wrapped packages, holding books, and topped with a card labeled “Bonus Book”, just laying around. The person with the most Bonus Book cards at the end of the convention would win a prize. That was not me. I only found one of these book packets. I was too busy talking to people to pay attention to the surroundings!

That night was the Welcome dinner, and we were assigned a table. We were told to discover various and sundry things about our tablemates, as there would be a test later. I don’t remember what we had for dinner, but the conversation at my table was fabulous. Then came the contests. We were asked questions, had to get a quick answer together as a table, and run up to Storymaster screaming out the answer. We also had a song lyric contest, we were given a word and at each tables’ turn they had to sing a bit of a song using that word. A new song, not just an in-tune and on-the-beat version of something a previous table had done badly! This is tougher than you might think.

Then, after dinner, a group of people got their chairs in a row and did Campfire stories. This produced some very silly results, and one very odd person kept trying to include a cow. I think he may have been a bit insecure, as he carried his stuffed cow with him most of the time, but I didn’t want to confront him in case he got upset. I didn’t know what that cow might have been capable of. (He knows who he is. The cow is called Bessie.) So ended Day One.

Day Two began with breakfast, which quickly led to the Creative Sessions. We were assigned tables, given sheets of prompts, and a time limit to come up with something fitting the parameters. The starter of each page would pick serious or humorous, rhyme scheme for poetry, and prose or poetry for the imagery segment.

Here’s the poetry segment I started, I chose humorous (of course), and rhyme scheme AABB:

Wordwarrior –

As I sat at the round table,
Envious of Vivian Gilbert Zabel,
Dying for a bigger drink of water,
I resolved in future to carry what I oughter!

Sweet Lady –

Thirsty for something to drink,
I wondered if perhaps there was a link,
To the nearest grocers for a Sprite
And to think, I drink the Lite!

Annticipation –

But that’s not all, can’t open the can.
Oh, God, as usual I need a man
With a tool, to open and then pour.
But where is this man I’m always looking for?

Monkey Mary 89 –

“I need no man,” I exclaim!
The can is open, no need to lay blame.
I didn’t do it with claws or fur.
I did it with a can opener.

Sgambill72

The drink was smooth and tasty
As I gulped very hasty.
I swallowed it down fast
Not making it last.

Scherpenisse –

“Even in belching the man I can beat,”
I said as I looked ‘round for something to eat.
Something that goes along nicely with Sprite
Which isn’t as much as you think it might.

Wordwarrior –

So my thirst, now nearly slaked,
Has my appetite just awaked.
This hunger I feel makes me frown,
For now I need something to wash it down!

Sweet Lady –

So grabbing a chocolate chip cookie
I told my table “Hey, lookie!”.
Then ate the confection very quickly,
And gave my fingers a little licky.

This nonsense went on until snack time. Of course, we all had to go back and read over what everyone else had written. It’s amazing what some people can come up with in just a couple of minutes!

That night after dinner was Open Mic night. (I have since posted my rant in my port.) I laughed, I cried, I laughed some more, I almost snorted Diet Coke out my nose, and I wanted it to go on forever. In fact, I liked one item so much I bought it at the auction the next day!

Day Three, and the auction, well, that was yet another amazing event. Who knew home-made candy was worth a couple hundred bucks a pound? To think I’ve been giving mine away as Christmas presents! The Open Mic item done by Colin Neilson, “Computers: What Are They Really Up To?” was included in his anthology, so I bought it. The bidding quickly became insane, a lot of really nice, and some really goofy items were on the block. Then came the Masquerade Ball.

I had cleverly left my mask at home, so Moni (Chef_Bratty), Stik (Soledad_Moon), and I went shopping at the mall. We had lots of fun, bought several extraneous but still truly necessary items, and raced back to the hotel to get dressed. I still screwed up. I spent so long working on my mask I was late getting dressed. I ran the first pair of nylons I tried to put on, couldn’t find the make-up I needed, and then the phone rang. Moni and Stik had noticed that I wasn’t there for the group picture. That’s right, I missed the start of the party, so I am not in the 2005 picture! I did finally make it to dinner, we all had a lot more fun, and I finished off almost all the sigs I needed to complete my yearbook. There were prize announcements, some silly, some serious, and then dancing. Being tone deaf and having no sense of rhythm means I don’t dance in public, but it was great to watch the people on the dance floor. I didn’t want the night to end, but again, exhaustion won out.

Day Four was our last day. We said goodbye, planned to catch up back here at writing.com, and a fabulous four day party was over. I can’t wait for 2006!