President-Elect Barak Obama: Yes we can

Not once in my memory have I believed in a candidate for President--until now.

Not once in my memory have I heard a speech from a President or a President-Elect that was as powerful, as unifying, or as moving as the best Aaron Sorkin wrote for The West Wing--until now.

I grew up somewhere between poor and middle class, depending on the year. I started working when I was ten, right after my father died. I grew up believing that America was a great country where anyone, anyone, could through hard work and sacrifice make a great life for himself or herself. I've since come on many an occasion to doubt that dream, but at least tonight I believe again. With a President-Elect who realized that dream, a man with a name like Barack Hussein Obama in a post 9/11 world, a man who, like me, grew up without a father, worked hard, got a great education, pursued his dreams, and will now be our President, that dream seems real and powerful again. I'd lost some of that belief--until now.

Obama didn't squeak in. He won it going away.

His opponent, John McCain, gave a gracious concession speech that reminded me of why I had liked him in the past. Good for him.

Obama didn't gloat in his speech. He didn't take the easy route of rousing the already excited crowd to new emotional heights. Instead, he focused on unity, on the dream of what America can be, on the challenges facing us all. I could not have been prouder to have voted for him.

All of us in the U.S. now have the opportunity to unite behind this new President, to take on these huge challenges, and to overcome them, as Americans have for over two centuries. I truly believe we can, and I truly believe Obama is the right man to lead us forward.

He can do it.

We can do it.

Yes we can.

On the road again: World Fantasy Con, day 6

As I wind my way home--I’m writing this on the plane from DFW to RDU--I thought I’d share with you the top five things I learned while in Calgary.

5. Fig compote has a strange allure to Canadian chefs.

Most of the restaurants in which we ate featured it in some way. Maybe it reminds Canadians of warmer places, places with large bodies of water, places folks staring at a prairie winter might want to be.

4. The Hyatt staff knows how to arrange your life.

I’ve explained this already, but the degree to which they would move around and order my possessions was higher than I’ve ever seen. I said you should fear them, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe you should embrace their leadership. Maybe I should.

3. Canadian television runs as many stupid shows as ours.

I like the Barenaked Ladies, and I like Ed Robertson, one of its lead singers. But, does he really need a show in which they put him in a different job each week? From talk shows to reality shows, from bad comedy sketches to overwrought news anchors, at least in my flip-speed surveys of Canada’s TV offerings, it was dumb American TV re-broadcast or original Canadian content that looked for all the world like reheated bad American TV.

2. As much as they might try to deny it, Canadians really are nice.

One commented, “No, we’re not; we’re just sneaky when we’re not nice.” I didn’t and don’t believe him. All of my experiences with Canadians support their essential niceness. In queues, holding doors, bumping into one another on the street--over and over, people behaved politely and nicely. I wish we could transfuse that trait into more Americans.

1. Even the Canadians know Barack Obama should be the next President of the United States.

They’re right; he should. I voted for him last week. I hope to be celebrating for him tomorrow night. I strongly believe he’s the best candidate to lead our country forward, and I think he even has a little bit of his soul left--which is quite an achievement for anyone playing in politics at his level.

UPDATE: I wrote the above, walked into the other room to unpack, and immediately felt guilty. I'm unfairly picking on the Canadians. Of course the Canadians know Obama should be President; most people outside the U.S. do. I'm hoping the majority of us within its borders prove tomorrow to share that knowledge.

On the road again: World Fantasy Con, day 5

Much of the afternoon today went to the World Fantasy Awards banquet. The food was surprisingly good for a hotel banquet, our tablemates were pleasant company, and Toastmaster Tad Williams' speech was fun. You can read the list of winners at the Locus site.

My only real complaint was the presentation. I would probably feel otherwise were I one of the nominees, but I thought it was rushed and lacked a bit of the pomp that normally attends such things. Nonetheless, I look forward to attending next year's WFC, as well as those thereafter.

On the Overthrowing Heaven front, I rewrote only the first chapter last night, which though satisfying my half hour of writing goal nonetheless was entirely too slack. Call it a celebration. Wow, do I know how to party!

Because I'm still in Canada, and because you can never have enough Blue Rodeo, I'll leave you with this, one of the band's slow but sad songs. Greg Keelor's vocals explore the many sides of loss. Enjoy. Sometimes it's okay to hurt.

On the road again: World Fantasy Con, day 4

If you're coming to Calgary and are considering this hotel, I need to warn you about five things you should fear.

1) The elevators hate you.

You can't go up without inserting your key and then pressing the floor number. If you move quickly, you can press a few floors, but let the thing start going, and you're back to needing the card. You can almost hear the elevator laughing at each new unsuspecting victim.

2) You get a free newspaper--but read it or lose it.

When I'm in a hotel, I, like many folks, read parts of the paper in the bathroom. This bathroom has a lovely little shelf across from the toilet, a nicely finished piece of wood ideal for holding those sections of the paper you haven't read yet.

Don't trust it.

Leave your papers there, and they will take them away. I speak from experience.

3) They'll decide how many glasses you need.

I use a lot of glasses in my hotel room: two at the desk, one for water and one for Diet Coke, and a pair of water glasses by the bed. These habits are not usually a problem; hotel rooms come with four glasses, and I've paid for the right to use them.

Not here. I started with four, but the cleaning crew decided I was a glass hog. Soon, I had three, then two, then one. I asked for more, and now I'm back to four, but to keep them I must hide them. Probably not with the newspapers, though; don't want to put all my eggs in one basket.

4) They'll decide how you should manage your dirty clothes.

I hit the treadmill (hotels) or walk outside (home) six days a week. To cut down on baggage (and I do already over pack), I bring two workout shorts and two workout shirts. I hang the dirty ones over a chair to air out. I arrange them so the more recent one always has the most exposed surface area, so the wetter one will dry faster.

Uh-uh. They know best and rearrange my garments as they see fit.

Time to hide them, maybe with the newspapers, which could soak up the sweat, but not with the glasses, because, well, eeew.

5) The toilet can eat you alive.

Flush this toilet, and you better have ear protection. It starts like a 747 firing up, and then it gets louder. Don't even think about sitting on it while flushing, or you will experience birth in reverse as you get a free ride to the Calgary sewers.

Overall, this is a nice hotel, but, hey, you've been warned.

It. Is. Alive.

Okay, maybe not alive, but done in first draft. I just finished all the work on the first draft of Overthrowing Heaven. Last night, I typed "THE END" for the first time, but the draft wasn't complete because I had some patching to do related to the cover. I did that tonight, finished the front and back matter I'd already drafted, and assembled the whole thing in one file just because, well, that's what I do.

For those interested, a few key stats about that file:

* 129,874 words -- over 10,000 more words of awesomeness than Slanted Jack
* 63 chapters (yeah, they're short, but I think they work)
* 500 double-spaced manuscript pages

At this hour, I have no one with whom I can celebrate, not that I do that very well anyway, so I thought I'd tell you all.

Tomorrow, I start the second draft, which means I begin at the very beginning and start editing on the computer. Though I will be cutting madly, I will also be working to improve my imaginative concentration where it's weak, so if I run true to typical form the book will grow a bit.

I have a lot of work to do, a ton, really, but I also have a complete book draft, and that's kinda cool.

Sleep now.

On the road again: World Fantasy Con, day 3

When you fill out the questionnaires from con programming staff, you always get to indicate the times you do not want to be on a panel. I always ask that they not schedule me before noon. I believe the con folks try to oblige these requests, but I suspect I am but one of many, many writers asking for the same morning relief. Thus, it was with no real surprise that I learned a week or so ago that my one panel at this con was at 10:00 a.m. on Friday, today.

The panel's topic was writing villains. My fellow panelists were the writer guest of honor, David Morrell, Anita Siraki, and as moderator, Janine Young (sorry, Janine, but in a few minutes of searching I couldn't find your site). I thought the topic had the potential to be interesting, but one never knows with panels; they can go anywhere.

In this case, the panel went quite well, with everyone contributing, Janice doing a swell job moderating, and all of us having a good time. I think the fairly full audience also had a nice time, which after all is the point of us being up there, so I was happy. I was particularly pleased that the conversation moved over a broad range of topics and types of evil and villainy.

I worked between panels but still managed to attend two others today. The first was an interview with publishing guest of honor, Tor founder and head Tom Doherty. Tom is a friend and, in my opinion, one of the last of the great SF publishing giants. His stories are always interesting and informative, and the interview that David Hartwell conducted provided more of Tom's usual wit and wisdom. I quite enjoyed it.

A different beast entirely was a later panel that was to feature the usual four panelists but that instead ended up including only my friend David Drake and David Morrell. The panel's topic of record--is fantasy an inherently violent genre?--was dumb and met with a quick and accurate answer from both panelists: No. The conversation then turned extremely intense, however, as Drake (going to last names here due to identical first names) discussed some of his experiences with violence in Viet Nam and Morrell explored what those meant and added his own cultural references and experience. I thought both writers ended up doing a super job, though I'm sure the panel must have left Drake wrecked and Morrell stunned. The nearly full house really got a treat in this one, though a rough sort of treat.

Dinner was also a treat, but an entirely fun one, as Tom Doherty and Linda Quinton hosted Dave (Drake), his Webmaster, Karen Zimmerman, Jennie, and me at The River Cafe. We ate and chatted about a wide range of topics, and everyone had a good time. I was particularly pleased to get to spend more time with Tom and meet Linda (I mean no insult to the other fine folks there; I just get to see them more often).

I slept little and worked a lot, and a great deal of work still awaits me, but overall it was an interesting day.

On the road again: World Fantasy Con, day 2

Most of today went to work, so I will spare you those details that would be exciting only to a very few (and all of those work at PT).

Lunch was at a restaurant in the pedestrian walking mall that runs along the southern edge of the hotel and continues for several blocks. Getting out into the air was good, the food was tasty, and I enjoyed most of the people watching. I say "most" because the congregation of homeless people led, at least in spirit and occasionally in motion, by the hopping insane-looking woman was rather sad. Even Canada, nice as it is, faces the homeless problem.

I took an early evening break to seek soda at a nearby quickie mart and managed to stroll right into a somewhat sketchy stretch of buildings: one man pissing on a wall in the twilight, taking long enough that he appeared to be enjoying the process and even admiring his handiwork; a different man carefully stuffing his crack rock (or another chunk of drug) into a cigarette; and a few loiterers who assessed my likelihood of being a compliant target (no freaking way, as they decided). The store where I bought the soda seemed to attract the sketchoids, so I kept the transaction quick.

In the walk to and from dinner much later in the evening, I got to enjoy all the lights in the trees and on the buildings. Yes, I agree it's too early for Christmas decorations, but I still love lights in trees, and I have a particular soft spot for them in Canada in the winter. Lovely, just lovely.

The book, which is very near its end, beckons me, so I shall remove myself to it.