Category Archives: conventions

Published: July 2, 2010

Protecting Our Nation’s Youth

So a couple months back, I went to the Detroit area for a convention.

Whenever I’m at a convention I find myself thinking, “I need to mention it this on the blog.”

The problem is this: When I get back from a convention, I’ve usually got a bunch of catching up to do. Revisions. Sarah needs kissing. And I usually have about 500 emails to sift through.

So I put off writing the blog for a couple days. But then something else always seems to come up. The convention stories get pushed back and eventually I give up on telling them.

But today I’m going to break that bad habit and tell a few of the stories from Penguicon.

I got a chance meet Randy Milholland in person for the first time. Randy does a webcomic I’m terribly fond of. He’s also one of the first webcartoonists to mention The Name of the Wind to his readers. It was a really big deal for me at the time, as it helped spread the word back when not a lot of people knew about the book.

We didn’t get to hang out as much as I’d hoped, but it was still cool to see him. I also took this picture:

That’s Randy drawing on the head of one of his fans. I took the picture because at the time I was a little jealous. But now that I’ve thought about it some more, I’m not so sure I’d like that sort of artistic responsibility.

I also had a lovely little adventure with Howard Tayler of Schlock Mercenary. But rather than re-tell that story, I’ll just link to his version of events. I honestly do not remember dropping the f-bomb on him. But Howard is a lovely guy, and I trust his memory more than mine.

I got to hang out with John Scalzi a little bit. He was delightful as ever. At one point he gave me an onion ring.

I honestly cannot remember why I took a picture of it. I think I was joking about selling it on e-bay.

Scalzi also told me a story.

Apparently, (Scalzi said) Subterranean Press sent him an ARC of The Adventures of The Princess and Mr. Whiffle.

The package showed up at his house, and his wife opened it. She flipped through it briefly, then set it down.

Later, his young daughter Athena wandered by. She saw the book and was curious about it. Understandable, really. On the surface, it looks like something every child would love:

(Warning: Do not allow book to come in contact with actual child.)

Anyway, Athena was lured in. She picked up the book, read it, and was a little… disturbed.

Athena then took the book to her mom and said, “I don’t think I like this.”

Luckily, mom was on the ball. She sat down with Athena and they chatted about the book. Processed it. Afterwards Zoe felt better, and, apparently, became rather fond of the book.

So fond of it, in fact, that Athena took it to school and asked the teacher if they could read it during story time. The teacher read the book and said “Hell no.” Though she said it in a much politer teachery way.

After Scalzi told me the story, I had a premonitory sweat. I shook my head and said, “I really need to put a sticker on the front of the book that says: This shit is not for kids.”

The idea rolled around in my head for a while, and so I talked to the illustrator, and we came up with this:

Then I had my best idea ever that week. Why not make the sticker really eye-catching? That way, people couldn’t help but notice the sticker and be fairly warned about the non-kid content.

I have to say it turned out perfectly. What’s more eye catchy than a gold-foil sticker? I’m sure when this is properly affixed to to the front of the book, people will be amply warned. Our nation’s children are now safe. Only the most foolish and lazy-minded of parents would ever mistake it for anything other than a warning label.

If you ordered your book from Subterranean Press, rest assured that you’ll be getting a sticker shipped to you along with your book. For the children.

In closing, two quick related notes:

1) Don’t hassle the folks at Subterranean Press, asking them if your book has shipped. They’re shipping them out as fast as they can. Be patient.

2) Subterranean is also shipping out their prizes from the Worldbuilders raffle. They’re sorry about the delay, but it was unavoidable. So if you get a couple unexpected books in the mail, it’s not a mistake, it’s a prize. Enjoy.

pat

Also posted in The Adventures of The Princess and Mr. Whiffle | By Pat72 Responses
Published: May 4, 2010

There and Back Again….

So I’m back from Penguicon and the signing off near Detroit.

Both events were a good time. I had the chance to read the Princess Book to a few people, hung out with other author types and talked geeky writing talk. It was fun. I’ve even got a few pictures to share…

I’ll post those things later. Today I’m going to talk about part of the convention that usually gets glossed over: The traveling.

The truth is, traveling is one of the hardest parts of going to conventions. It is for me at least.

Conventions themselves are easy for me. I meet people, sign books, talk on panels, and do readings. It’s exhausting, but it’s not hard. I’m a fairly decent public speaker, and I like meeting fans and other authors. So conventions are a treat for me. They’re a break from my otherwise rather unsocial and solitary life.

But the traveling isn’t fun. It’s expensive, irritating, and time consuming. Worst of all, I seem to get sick every time I go on an extended plane ride.

That’s the main reason that I do so many events here in the midwest. And that’s the reason that I decided to drive to Penguicon.

It takes about 8-9 hours to drive from central Wisconsin to Troy, MI. Still, given check-in times and layovers, that’s only a couple hours longer than a plane. Plus it’s cheaper and I don’t have to worry about people groping through my luggage.

The trip to the convention was relatively uneventful. I made a pitstop in Madison to hang out with some friends I don’t see nearly often enough and helped one of them move some furniture around in his new apartment.

Have I ever mentioned that I used to be a professional mover? It was only a summer job, and I was in better shape back then. But still, it’s nice to keep my hand in, just in case this whole writing thing doesn’t pan out for me in the long run.

It’s on the way back from the convention that things get interesting. After my library reading I hop in my car, enter my home address on my Magellan, and start driving.

I feel I should mention here, in yet another tangent, that I feel morally conflicted about the Magellan. I got it as a Christmas present from my dad, and it’s wonderfully convenient. But at the same time I believe devices like this are actively endumbening the populace. You should be able to read a map, folks. You should know which direction north is.

Did I ever mention I used to be a delivery driver too? I was. I can read a map. What’s more, using a brilliant mixture of zen navigation, Aristotelian logic, and pure rage I can get you your package and/or delicious sandwich relatively close to on-time.

That’s another fallback career for me.

That said, I do use the Magellan when I’m in unfamiliar territory. I don’t have a map of Detroit. It’s quick, easy, and usually accurate.

Note the *usually.*

The Magellan tells me to turn right, then left, then right. I just follow along, as most of my attention is focused on listening to Warren Ellis’ Crooked Little Vein on audiobook.

But something doesn’t feel right. I look at the one of the passing signs and see that I’m heading north. I pull over in a gas station and have a discussion with the machine:

Me: What the fuck, Magellan?

It: Calculating Route.

Me: No. Seriously. What the fuck?

It: Turn right onto North 74.

Me: North isn’t the right way to go.

It: Ding!

Me: I’m going to Stevens Point. In Wisconsin. Through Madison.

It: Calculating route. Stevens Point is 974 miles away.

Me: The fuck it is. Go south.

It: Ding! Turn right onto North 74.

So I throw the thing into the footwell of the car. I throw it hard, too. So it knows who’s in charge. You people might have to deal with that sort of insolent backtalk from your machine overlords, but not me. I work with machines in one way: they do what I say or I fucking destroy them and do it myself. I consider myself a Darwinistic force in machine evolution. I’m encouraging them to evolve along more helpful lines.

The gas station is depressing. The woman behind the counter doesn’t know which road leads back to I 94. She doesn’t think the gas station has any maps to sell. She suggests I get directions from someone who has an iphone. She has one eyebrow. Not kidding.

So I find the maps myself, buy one, and get back into the car. Using the map and eight seconds of rational thought, I find the sensible route home.

After two hours the Magellan’s battery starts to die and it chirps at me pitifully from the passenger-side footwell. I let it starve for another ten minutes then bring it out and we have another conversation.

Me: How far away is Stevens Point?

It: 820 miles?

Me: What’s your name?

It: M-Magellan?

Me: No. Your name is bitch. I’m asking you one more time, how do you get to Stevens Point?

It: You should head south through Chicago on I 94.

Me: That’s right I should.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that an hour later, after paying a toll, my driver side window refuses to roll back up. Machines tend to stick together like that.

So I pull over at another gas station and kick the hell out of the door for a while. I do this partly in case it’s a loose wire or something that can be fixed by kicking, but also as a warning for any other machines nearby that are considering insubordination.

Then I go into the gas station and explain the situation. I don’t want to drive another three hours with damp, 50 degree air blowing into my ear. Cardboard and duct tape isn’t good either, as it would limit my visibility too much. The attendant there is cool, and lets me poke around in back looking for useful supplies until I find a roll of that plastic stuff you use to wrap up pallets.

Did I ever mention I used to work in a warehouse? I did.

I have to say, even though I’ve been out of the game for about two decades, I still have some mad pallet-wrapping skills.

Then I went home.

Everything said, it was still way better than flying.

pat

Also posted in being awesome, day in the life, tangentality | By Pat94 Responses
Published: April 23, 2010

Books for Boobs

Sometimes I write a great blog and then struggle over the title for a ridiculous amount of time before eventually settling on something vaguely mediocre.

Other times, I write the title first and then think to myself, “Well, that pretty much says it all. Everything is going to be downhill from there.”

This is one of those times.

Earlier today someone sent me a message saying, “Are you going to blog about the books for boobs thing you did?”

My first thought was, “What the hell are they talking about? Was this something I did at a convention when I was really sleep deprived and crazy on sugary mochas? What did I do?”

I thought about it for a minute and dragged up a memory from a convention last July. “How the hell did they find out about that?” I thought to myself. “Did someone get pictures and post them on their blog?”

Luckily, it turns out I was thinking of something entirely different. But that, as they say, is a story for another time.

Books for Boobs is a charity event I donated a book to last year. They’re auctioning off stuff from different authors, including Jim Butcher, Brandon Sanderson, my mortal enemy Anton Strout, and the recently mentioned Amber Benson.

I recommend you go and check it out if only because I look kinda good in the picture they took of me. Forgive me my tiny moment of vanity, but it’s such a rare treat for me to see a picture of myself that doesn’t make me look like a bloody shambles.

Here’s the link.

Have a great weekend everybody….

pat

Also posted in a billion links, Jim Butcher, my beard | By Pat46 Responses
Published: August 18, 2009

Something to brighten your geeky day…

So, I’m back from GenCon. And despite the fact that I washed my hands like Lady Macbeth the whole time, I somehow managed to get sick.

Ordinarily, I’m okay with this. It’s one of the risks of attending conventions. Sometimes you get stuck on a panel where you don’t fit in. Sometimes you get trapped in a conversation and have to listen to a guy tell you about his 15th level half-elven ranger/assassin.

And sometimes, if you’re unlucky enough to have me as your arch-nemesis, you get a death threat in your fortune cookie….

… Sometimes you get a cold. It’s all part of the game.

But this time it sucks more than usual. I did Worldcon and GenCon back-to-back this year, so I’ve been away from home for almost two weeks solid. However, because I got sick the day before I came home, I cannot have a joyeux homecoming complete with passionate kissings from Sarah.

No. It is bad for a pregnant lady to get sick. That means when I returned from the airport, Sarah greeted me at the door with a firm handshake and a pat on the head.

Don’t get me wrong. It was a good handshake. But even the best of handshakes cannot help but fall far short of passionate.

So I sit at my computer, sick, kissless, and trying to catch up on 500 unanswered e-mails. What can I possibly find that will lift my spirits?

This:

Yes, Felicia Day is all kinds of awesome. You had to know that already. What this video really did was firmly cement my love for Sandeep Parikh and Jeff Lewis.

Midwest side, my boys. Represent.

pat

Also posted in Felicia Day, The Guild, videos | By Pat49 Responses
Published: August 1, 2009

San Diego Comic-Con 2009: The Highlights

I’ve wanted to go to San Diego Comic-con for years, but something always seems to keep me away. Two years ago it was a family vacation. Last year I was conducting a wedding.

This year was no different: I had an exciting adventure Wednesday morning. I was in the ER two hours before my plane was supposed to take off….

But while that story is a good story, exciting, full of drama and tragedy, it’s not really part of the convention. So I’ll pass it over for now. Suffice to say that despite many obstacles, 2009 was the year that I finally made it to San Diego Comic-con.

On Thursday, I met up with a fan called Pooka. I don’t always recognize my fans, even when they contact me before the convention. But in her case, I somehow managed to pick her out of the crowd:

(I’m the one with the beard.)

You can’t see her pink leggings in this picture, but you’ll have to trust me on the fact that her plumage is abundant and bright. She was nice enough to show me around the convention, as she’s a veteran comic-con attendee, and I’m just a newbie.

Pooka and her friends throw a party every year at the con: X-Sanguin. They invited me this year, and while I was flattered, I ended up taking a pass. I expect I’m not sexy enough to hang with the glitterati. Not even when I’m wearing my shades and pretending to be as cool as Neil Gaiman:

Pooka helped me find the room where my panel was being held. It was the only panel I was scheduled for at the convention proper, and to be honest, I was a little nervous. Not only was Jacqueline Carey on it, but Lev Grossman was moderating. Dude is scary smart.

I can’t find a picture of the entire panel, but here’s one of a few of the other folks, including Carey.

In the corner you can’t see Lev, but you can spot a copy of his soon-to be released book, The Magicians. I got to read an advance copy a little while back, and really enjoyed it. I’ll probably do an official recommendation on the blog a little closer to the release date.

The panel’s topic was “The Evolution of Fantasy.” I avoided making too much of an ass of myself and got a laugh or two. Which is as much as I can ever hope for on a panel. If you want more details, Lev wrote a column about it for Time. You can read it over here.

After the panel, I had a signing where some fans gave me an awesome little Voodoo doll. (Or mommet, if you will.)

(Yes. It’s got little screws sticking out of its head.)

When I asked how they’d like me to sign their books, they said they wanted to be designated as official Fanatical Minions. Nobody’s ever asked that before, so they got to be Fantastical Minions #1 and #2.

I felt obliged to point out that the numbers were not a ranking system. Just a designation.

After the signing I got to hang out a bit with Cindy Pon. Whose first book just came out. She’s a lot of fun, and if you hop over to her blog, you’ll see her dressed up as Chun Li the next day at the con. Needless to say, she’s my kind of person…

Capping off Thursday, I got to have Dinner with Greg Dean from Real Life comics. We’ve known each other for a while, but never met in person. Dinner was lovely and the conversation…. Well…. I had a great time. But I don’t know if I can say the same for Greg and Liz.

You see, most people have conversational filters. Not so much with me. So when something interesting happens in my life, I tell stories about it. Even if these stories are… odd.

As I’ve mentioned, when I was leaving for the convention I had… an adventure. An adventure that I shared with them….

You should probably just go read the comic he wrote about it…

Last but not least, I saw the first Name of the Wind t-shirt ever at the convention:

How cool is that? Extra minion points. Doubleplus good.

Thanks all for now, folks. But come back soon, there’s going to be a blog in a day or so that will need some audience participation…

pat

Also posted in Catgirl, fan coolness | By Pat43 Responses
Published: June 26, 2009

Upcoming Appearances and Internet Etiquette

So the power was out in my neighborhood today. This doomed me to an afternoon of stewing in my own juice. The weather in Wisconsin right now has been roughly equivalent to living inside a dog’s mouth. It was not a good day to be without air conditioning.

Also, the power outage threw a wrench into my plan to fine-tune and post another blog about Europe. So, instead, I decided to pass along some news and answer a piece of fanmail I got yesterday instead.

First the news: I’ve just finished updating the tour page.

The busy part of convention season is fast approaching, and I’ve got a lot of events scheduled over the next couple months. From relatively small conventions and signings here in Wisconsin (I’m in Wausau this Saturday, btw) to big conventions in Indianapolis, Minneapolis, Montreal, and San Diego.

(Rare footage of the elusive Rothfuss at his natural migratory habitat: the convention.)

At some of these conventions, I even get to be Guest of Honor. I’m not sure, but I think this means someone will be contractually obliged to fan me with a large palm leaf. I also expect to be given a shiny medal of some sort or at least a rather dapper-looking hat.

(The Rothfuss uses his bright plumage to lure readers into panels, where he devours them. )

So head on over to the page and take a look at where I’m going to be. I go to these to meet readers and hang out, so the more the merrier.

Now the piece of e-mail:

Pat,

I have a quick question I hope you don’t mind answering. I saw you do that sometimes in your blogs.

After finishing The Name of the Wind, I called my local bookstore to see when the next book was coming out. They didn’t know. So I called my local Library. They didn’t know. So eventually, I gritted my teeth and borrowed a friend’s internet and found your blog.

Over the next week I read all of it. Including most of the comments. I was a little addicted. I’m guessing it took me fifty hours.

I don’t have a question about book two. Take your time. But as someone who doesn’t spend a lot of time online, I am curious about this whole blog thing. Specifically about the comments you receive on your blog. After reading these, I feel like I know a lot of the posters.

Many of them are funny, and some of them are really clever… But some of them seem downright insensitive or rude.

What is up with that? Am I just oversensitive, or are a lot of the people commenting on your blog actually rather rude?

I’m tempted to say it’s the former. I’m not really a blog reader. And I’ve always assumed that people smart enough to read your book would also be courteous and polite.

Sincerely,

Jen J.

Jen,

I’ve always assumed that people who read my book are not only intelligent and polite, but more attractive and better in bed than your average person. They also smell like fresh pie.

Unfortunately, the internet is like a great machine designed to make humanity look stupid. Oh sure, there are good things the internet does for us. Smart things. Noble things. But for every one person using distributed computing to cure cancer, there are ten people forwarding me a letter that threatens impotence and the death of a fluffy kitten if I dare to break the chain.

The problem is this. The internet is allows people to do things very quickly.

Now don’t get me wrong, some things are better done quickly. Getting someone to the hospital. Mowing the lawn. Making my 7-layer burrito.

But many things are not improved by speed. Most things, actually: Backrubs. Baths. Getting a haircut. Writing a novel. Cuddling. Kissing.

And blog commenting. Contrary to what people believe, fast is not always better in terms of communication.

The problem is, language is a slippery thing. People have a hard enough time getting their point across when they’re face-to-face. Over the phone is harder because you can’t see body language or facial expression.

But pure text is the hardest. That’s why e-mail misunderstandings abound, because you don’t even have timing or vocal inflection to help get your point across.

This means when a person types a comment without thinking things through, it’s much more likely that their intended message will get lost and they’ll seem rude when they really didn’t mean to be.

Take my announcement today for example. I know what’s going to happen as soon as I post about my upcoming convention appearances.

I’m going to get people posting comments that say things like: “Screw Indianapolis! Come to Mucwanigo!!! We have a bookstore!!!1!!”

Now this person probably wants to say three things:

1. They have a lot of enthusiasm for me and my work.
2. They won’t be able to make it to Indianapolis and this ensaddens them.
3. They’d appreciate it if I came to Mucwanigo.

But despite the egregious overuse of exclamation points, this is not what this comment actually communicates. To a lot of readers, this comment seems rude. Here’s why.

Signings and conventions require a great deal of effort on the author’s part. Doing a even a handful of events like this means an author will spend dozens of hours on planes breathing recycled farts, hours scheduling panels and e-mailing plans, then days at the event itself.

It’s also expensive, thousands of dollars on plane tickets, taxis, hotel rooms, and overpriced airport burritos.

Knowing all of this, a courteous internet user can understand why a comment of, “Why don’t you ever come to St. Augustine?” seems a little insensitive.

At the same time, rude is sometimes in the eye of the beholder, too. That’s why I try my best to read comments in the spirit they were written. That means looking at them with a generous eye sometimes, trying to cherish the enthusiasm and ignore the fact that the poster didn’t take the time to think things through.

Still, when someone writes, “Minneapolis is a whole 30 miles away! Come to Wanamingo!” it’s bound make me feel like a cat that’s been rubbed backwards.

Not only is it issued as a command (which is never endearing) but it implies that even though the author is traveling several hundred miles, leaving his pregnant girlfriend home alone for the weekend, and effectively skipping his own birthday, he still isn’t doing enough to please you.

So that’s what I think is going on in the comments, Jen. Sure there are a few mean-spirited or genuinely snarky people out there making posts. But the vast majority of the people that come across as rude are probably just guilty of posting without thinking things through.

Of course my readers. My clever readers. My clever, polite, sexy, apple-pie readers are a class of person quite above the normal internet rabble. They think twice before they post. Some of them even think three times. Right?

Right?

Later space cowboys,

pat

Also posted in appearances, Fanmail Q + A, signing books | By Pat143 Responses
Published: April 8, 2009

Upcoming appearances, and the woes of biography

I have trouble with simple things sometimes.

For example: I’m going to be Guest of Honor at Gencon this year.

That isn’t the hard part. Truth is, being Guest of Honor is a pretty sweet gig. I had my first taste of it up in V-Con last year.

When you’re GOH, the convention typically does lovely things for you, like pay for your hotel room and your flight out to the convention. Usually an author has to pay for all that out of their own pocket, which means it’s really expensive to hit two or three cons in a year. Let alone the five or six I usually try to attend.

This year, through a weird confluence of events, I’m going to be Guest-of-Honoring at four different conventions. Details are over on the Tour Page, if you’re interested.

One of these conventions is only a couple of weeks away, down in Madison. I’m sorry I haven’t posted up the info about Oddcon sooner, but I’ve been busy writing, and I was called in as a last minute pinch-hitter GOH to replace Tobias Buckell. He had to bow out on account of his wife being super-pregnant. If you’re interested, they’ve extended pre-registration until Friday because of the change of plans.

Anyway, in exchange for having our expenses paid, the GOH has certain responsibilities. The main one of these is to do stuff for the convention. We do more than the usual number of readings, signings, panels. Etc.

I don’t have a problem with this. This is why I go to conventions. I like talking about stories. That’s what I’m all about.

My problem was with something much simpler. As I mentioned above, I’m going to be the author GOH at Gencon this year. So they asked me to write a bio they can put in the program book….

This should be easy. It’s short. 150 words. When I was born. Where I’m from. What I’ve done. Stuff like that.

But I overthink these things. It’s a problem I have.

So I write a regular bio. Names. Dates. The Name of the Wind. Sold in 27 countries. Simple.

But then when I’m finished, I read that bio and it seems really dry and boring.

So I write a new bio. I want it to be better. Different. A little funny. I want it to be cool. Sexy even.

But then I read that one and it seems desperate, whorish. It’s stupid and corny.

So I write a new bio. I tone it down, try to be subtle, understated, professional.

But then I read that one and it seems boring again, plus stiff and awkward. Plus fakey.

So, finally, I get fed up and write something like this:

Patrick Rothfuss sprung fully formed from Marge Rothfuss, his mother, in Madison Wisconsin. In a mere three months, Pat grew to the height of a man while teaching himself to read and write using only a shovel and a dead cat.

When the voices told him to, Pat left home to attend college in at University Wisconsin Stevens Point where he joined Slytherin house and had many wonderful adventures. After graduating, Pat evolved into a being of pure light and energy. Then he went to grad school and evolved even further into being composed entirely of bile, anger, binder twine, and sweet, sweet, methadone. After grad school Pat joined forces with five plucky Japanese schoolgirls to form a giant robot that fights crime.

Through all of this Pat has read fantasy, watched fantasy, and written fantasy. Some academics have suggested that Pat eats, sleeps, and breathes fantasy, but this is simply untrue. The truth is that Pat eats burritos, sleeps like a drooly baby, and breathes a white-hot plasma composed of molten gold and rage.

And you know what? I like this bio the best. If I’m going to spew out bullshit, I’d rather have it be pure, unadulterated bullshit.

By the way, a lot of you have been asking who’s been doing my illustrations for the blog. It’s not me. I can’t draw worth a tinker’s damn. My illustrator’s name is Brett Hiorns, and he is awesome. You can say howdy to him in the comments, if you like.

That’s all I’ve got for now. More news soon. Cool news. Stay tuned.

pat

Also posted in appearances, BJ Hiorns Art, my dumbness | By Pat93 Responses

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