When I attended Readercon last month, I caught up with Gil Roth, who runs Virtual Memories, one of my favorite podcasts about books and writers. Gil had attempted to interview me for the show last Fall when I was in the NYC/Philadelphia-area, but after losing my voice and hopping from plane to bus to train to subway, we rescheduled. We had our opportunity for a retake at Readercon (as part of his 2-part Readercon 2013 mega-podcast).
Part 1 features John Crowley and Scott Edelman, and includes a wonderful discussion about fairies, zombie-fiction, storytelling tips, and writing challenges.
“One of the most amazing things about writing to me is that, even though you’ve read, and heard, and seen thousands of stories, when you sit down to write one, you have no idea how to begin!” –John Crowley
Part 2 features Theodora Goss, Nancy Hightower, and me. This from the Virtual Memories site:
First, Theodora Goss talks about her new accordion-shaped novella, The Thorn and the Blossom, what writing contracts taught her about writing stories, why most classic literary monsters were female, and the joys of coffee in Budapest. Then (52:00), Valya Dudycz Lupescu explores the joys of Growing Up Ukrainian in Chicago, the role of folklore and myths in her fiction, and how every immigrant wave has to choose what it holds onto when it lands in America. Finally (1:15:00), Nancy Hightower tells us why she gave up Colorado for NYC, how she made the transition from teaching the grotesque to writing epic eco-fantasy, and how we learn the cost of wilderness.
It was wonderful to be in the company of these two intelligent, creative, and talented writers all weekend at Readercon, and I enjoyed listening to their interviews as much as I enjoyed chatting with Gil.
In her interview, Theodora speaks about the joy of conferences and conventions like Readercon. I’m new to the scene, but I wholly agree. Cons allow us to engage other writers in a social setting, to discuss everything from coffee to craft.
Cons are an oasis of sorts, they create the opportunity for community to happen in a physical place, because for most writers, the work is solitary. Even the internet, while a lifeline for many and an invaluable tool for connection, is not the same as sharing a meal, or sitting in a hotel room drinking wine with friends as the sun comes up. Those become the memories many of us hold onto when we’re back alone in front of our laptops and notebooks, facing blank pages and beginning again.