My arrival was flawless, though filled with anxiety. I stood around in the hallway waiting for the lunch room to open. People immediately grouped into laughing circles, while a few of us stood against the wall. Eventually, I managed to introduce myself to another wallflower, a soft spoken woman who stuck close to me all during lunch. Only two weirdos spied at lunch: one woman with the fiercest mullet I've seen this side of the Mississippi and another guy who came with business cards with a short story printed on the back.
My writing workshop went well--great, actually. No weirdos there. I got some new ideas and new friends. Dinner was leftover meatloaf at my cousin's, which is conveniently located a block and a half from the con. He is conveniently gone most of the time too.
I volunteered to stuff packets, which was fun and chocolate-filled, but overwhelming. No matter how much I WANT to make new friends, after a certain point I can't talk anymore. Luckily someone told me I should go to the reading down the street rightnow and cash in on the cheese plate. I saw Kelly Link. Froze up when I thought about talking to her. I heard Jane Yolen read and liked her even better. Now I'm waiting to go to an evening party.
I have a few things going for me here: one, my age. There is definitely a younger crowd here, but I have mostly talked to older people. I think it makes me unintimidating to them. Two: my tattoo. Great conversation starter, especially in this audience. Three: my Strand sweatshirt. Covers the tattoo, but anyone who knows the Strand digs it.
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