Devi, my esteemed colleague and likely better in every respect, is a battle-scarred veteran of many a convention. Going into this past weekend she had strategies and plans for survival (and apparently a whole list of mad inventions for future years). I, on the other hand, was an impressionable innocent wandering blindly into the crossfire. I’ve been at Orbit a little over a year and didn’t make it out to Denver last year. I’d bopped around the NYCC a little bit and BEA but those are more trade-shows and I’d somehow avoided all the intense networking and partying they surrounds them. I’d always been interested in going just as a fan, but between work and money and all the other little excuses had never ventured afield to that most scary of SFF meet-ups. I was, as embarrassed as I was to admit it, a convention virgin.

So, I’m happy to report back with my findings. It’s a pretty short list and really only consists of one item: I need a new liver.

Between the parties (our own and everyone else’s), the meetings, the socializing, the hazing—er, wait, I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about that one—I’m feeling a real need for some downtime to recharge.

But aside from the whingeing, the Orbit party was a classy shindig, if I may say so myself. I had a great time getting to know the authors I’ve been working with for over a year now and have never met face to face. I must say that each and every one of them was an absolute delight and I had a total blast hanging out with them. Robert Jackson Bennett’s got a fabulous pair of Texas cowboy boots and a bottle of suspect, hundred proof, hobo liquor to go with them. Amanda and her husband Stephen I’d had the pleasure of meeting before and it was great to catch up with them. Terry DeHart and I sat down over dinner to talk a little post-apocalypse and other cheerful, sundry matters. And I had a coffee with Seanan McGuire—er, excuse me, Mira Grant. We had a lovely chat about zombies and plagues and the general pleasures of killing off entire states (also unintentional interest from homeland security and generally the ability to terrify the face off of innocent bystanders). Jesse Bullington is the nicest man with the most twisted imagination you’ll ever meet and his friends are from my hometown which I eventually stopped holding against them.

Greg Bear and his lovely wife Astrid, both of whom I hadn’t seen in nearly a year, took the time to introduce me to Robert Silverberg and Tim Powers. They regaled us with stories of shotgun antics and convention derring-do after I unwisely admitted this was my first convention. I sat there listening to Robert Silverberg talk about working with Isaac Asimov and Tim Powers telling stories of Philip K. Dick and thought to myself, ‘hey, this thing is alright.’ I had a great time over breakfast with Greg and Astrid later talking about movies and the future of science fiction and I think we might have just about ironed out a plot to take the whole industry over.

I’ve been told that Gail Carriger’s party was the best suite party a con has ever seen—sadly for me that means it’s all downhill from there. All I know is that I was swilling some great home-brew gin and sneaking earl grey truffles when Victorian-dressed maids swept by with silver platters of finger food. I met Peter V. Brett there and saw Brent Weeks and didn’t realize my evening was about to take a turn for the rougher end of things… I’ll just point you back to Brent’s twitter stream, shall I?

Also, I got to sit down for a few minutes before dashing off to catch my plane to New York with Marc Laidlaw and geek out over Half Life. I might have gushed on him a bit there—sorry Marc!

Anyhow, thanks to everyone I met at World Fantasy this year: from Orbit authors to agents to living legends to aspiring writers. I had a fantastic time and look forward to seeing everyone again soon!