S.A. Garcia's Mutterings, Whimpers and Rants

S.A. Garcia's Mutterings, Whimpers and Rants. World Domination by 2020. Or 2025. Probably never.

Monday, August 15, 2011

AAD Convention in Philly

Just a little overview from a newbie's POV. 

Despite Stella's worries due to the hotel's last minute nonsense, the con seemed to run smoothly. Then again I wasn't in her boots and glad not to be.

The seminars were more entertaining than enlightening. Not a bad thing, since knowledge fell amongst the laughter.

One small detail; every session needs a moderator, someone to reel in other authors when they begin talking about their own work and not the topic at hand. The authors at this con were so polite they didn't want to reel in certain offenders. And fuck, there was a serial offender. Yeah, there's always one in the crowd.

The con is an interesting concept, since readers mingle with their fave romance authors, even to the point of eating dinner with them. Even Readercon in Boston doesn't allow this level of interaction.

Ethan Day and A.C. Mason made my first booksigning experience a delight. I knew no one would want my sig (pleasantly surprised to have a few takers), so I expected to be bored out of my mind. If not for their support and funny conversation I would have fallen asleep.

When I owned my indie music mag, we attended two major conferences a year. Thing is then I had a staff, writers and plenty of record company drinking buddies ready to cover any tab. When in the business realm, I went to conventions surrounded by staff and drinking buddies.

This was little old me on my own, a much older and hesitant me, trying to promote only me. I failed on the promotion part but at least it was lovely to meet authors I only knew by name or through blog posts.

Cheers to Gus, Eon, Rowan, Pearl, Ariel, Andrew, A.C. and Ethan.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

The Eyes Don't Have It

Amazing. It's simply amazing. 

Why do established writers still insist on "eyes" performing odd physical acts?

"His eyes rolled across her face."

EEEyyyuc, no they did not!

"Her eyes fell to the floor"


Really, play this game while reading. Not sure if it's a drinking game since I suspect most people don't drink while reading, but seriously, keep an "eye" out for the hilarious possibilities.

"His eyes met Mark's." Guess they "boinged" out on their stalks. Splat.

I feel sure I have slipped, but ever since this problem was pointed out to me, I aim to eradicate eyes performing unnatural feats. Hell, come on, you gotta get something right in your writing, correct? No roaming eyeballs!

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Feeling Old

I wonder about the glut of writers riding the ebook wave. I've had this discussion with other writers regarding the compulsion to write. It's not that you think, "hey, fuck, maybe I want to try that there writing thing!" It's more like every fucking day you find the time, unless sickness or death stomps down on your soul, to write. You live to write. You don't decide to write, no, writing taps against your brain and demands release. Words swell, demand, threaten.

If the words don't find release, they roll around in the thoughts. They invade dreams. They are the first thing to surface when massaging the head in the morning shower. I do mean the actual head, the part attached to the neck. Men might find a different direction in their thinking. 

I'm so fucking weary. I feel too traditional. Imagine, writing gay male romance and feeling traditional.

I want to tell a glorious story, not shock a reader. 

And that, kittens, makes me feel old.