RMFW Con: writers Cons vs fan Cons24 Sep 2013, Posted by Rob's Blog in
I am back from the strip club…cough…RMFW (Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers) http://www.rmfw.org/conference I will say that as a rule I do prefer SF/F Cons such as SDCC and Dragon*Con to writers Cons. That’s simply because I’ve published thirteen books (written sixteen), and published four anthology stories. I’ve no interest in learning more about writing, being around the writing process, talking about writing…I’m already at the PTSD level now. I like Cons where I can do a panel for 300 fantasy fans who want to know the best way to strangle a revenant with its own intestines, do a signing, see my super-fans–Rob’s Reavers, drink with all the other authors I haven’t seen in years, and then I get to run off and be a fangirl. I see Kevin Smith moderate a panel on Battlestar Galactica (with all his f-bombs). I see Stargate/Stargate Atlantis panels, Doctor Who panels, Supernatural panels, Torchwood panels–with all the actors. I see movies that won’t be out for another year, new SF/F TV shows. I have my picture taken with Mark Sheppard and Wil Wheaton (who I ambushed in a parking lot). And, yes, when I was younger, I’d run around in spandex dressed up as Dark Phoenix from the X-men or Lady Deadpool…because I’m a hard-core geek, writing is my job, and Cons are my vacation away from my job.
But RMFW was not what I’d come to expect from the customary writers Con. The hotel was luxurious and wonderful (aside from the slight hiccup of security trying to throw me out of the room at 7:45 AM as they’d accidentally double-booked it. But, hey, I’m originally from Kentucky and if you haven’t had your door kicked in at least once on a mistaken meth-lab bust then you’re missing the KY experience. Plus, they gave me a nice apology note and a bottle of free wine. All good! In fact, I’d sign up for that again because I am a fan of free wine!) The people at the Con were hilarious, positive, partied until 4 AM, the authors, agents, and Con volunteers were wined and dined at someone’s enormous house with the type of catering that probably costs more than my car…and maybe more than my house, too. The people in charge of the Con were beyond professional in the running of it. They kept the Con going smoothly despite the Red Cross swarming the hotel. In fact, it ran so smoothly that I suspect blood sacrifices of virgins to dark deities were involved as otherwise I simply don’t know how they did it. It was also the first time I’ve ever been to a Con where I felt I was truly valued as a professional published author (the other Cons simply are too large at 145,000 attendees to value anyone at all…even Brad Pitt.) And all the attendees were upbeat, loved writing for writing’s sake–not necessarily for publishing as the end-all be-all of that love, and that makes for a much more positive environment. It’s a helluva lot more fun to drink and laugh with the attendees than have them soak your shoes in their tears and slide their manuscript in your bag while you’re not looking. I have a great amount of respect for all the people I met and shocked myself by having an absolutely amazing time. And if you are looking for writing support and education, they had panels, workshops, one-on-one critiques with authors and agents, pitch-your-manuscript-to-an-agent (and they had at least around twenty agents from reputable agencies), and on and on and on. It was wholly impressive, and I’ve been in publishing long enough to be bitter and jaded (as a majority of all authors eventually become…developing from a caterpillar of hope and naiveté, to a pupae of shock and desperation, to a razor-winged butterfly of rage and despair). So, hell, if it impressed me and had me laughing, drinking a whiskey and dancing on the ledge instead of jumping off of it, this is the Promised Land of writers Cons. Shangri-La. Xanadu (but without Olivia Newton-John).
Unfortunately, somehow all the pictures I brought back were from the hospitality suite (free booze for everyone–attendees included!) and have more of a strip club vibe than a Con vibe. Many cannot be posted…or shall we say, won’t be posted should I receive a certain amount of compensation. Just kidding! (seriously, go to the bank, drain your savings account…no, no. Kidding. Kidding. But I do like chocolate, particularly white chocolate. It’s just a thought.) But here are the two pictures out of ten that can be seen.
1) Amazing super fan gets breast signed (this is actually not the first breast I’ve signed. I’m certain this doesn’t surprise you). 2) And this is horror author/screenwriter Ron Malfi, who I met for the first time. Ron is my twin separated at birth, who I’d be if I was a man and not a woman (although even as a woman I suspect my dick is still bigger.) Yes, Ron is a tactless jackass who crawled out of the womb with a bottle of whiskey and a cigar and can be found cleaved by civil law and God’s word to the nearest bar. If he’s not at the bar or speaking at a panel, call security to do a room check because he’s dead. Fantastic guy, great author (although the end of the Floating Staircase made me want to kick his ass), my brand new brother (we are so genetically and psychologically identical that sitting at the same table is a little incestuous), and it’s nice to know there is someone as hopelessly inappropriate, wildly sarcastic, uncontrollably mocking, and mildly sociopathic as I am. If this doesn’t become his new author pic, I’m at a loss. Sums up the man perfectly. This would be lunch with Ron.