Conning in Bawlmore

Ah, Discworld Con. Your frenetic pace, colorful costumes, and indifferent hotel staff have brought me weird looks, chats with strangers, and odd questions. I have been baptized in the scalding deep end of the book enthusiast, and have been locked in amongst the loonies. Four days of seeing wizards, hearing people exclaim, "Crivens!" or, carrying tiny scythes and communicating by all-caps SQUEAKS. Four days of seeing barefoot, red-haired people painted blue, witches with stern expressions and partially invisible hats, well-meaning matrons in scorched aprons collecting for The Sunshine Sanctuary for Sick Dragons. All the crazy of the Discworld, put forth with all the heart in the world. Made for fans, by fans, these past few days have been an exhausting peep into the provenance of the root word for fan... that is, fanatic. I have much, much, MUCH more to say, more about the people of "Bawlmore," more about what I think makes a good Con (from my vast knowledge of being in the middle of my first), more about Cons in general, about collectors of knowledge and sharers of knowledge, and which kind of fan I want to be...

...but, I'm also on a panel in forty minutes - with SHEILA RUTH of Wands & Worlds and CHARLOTTE TAYLOR of Charlotte's Library, as well as Anne Hoppe of Macmillian, so while I am undoubtedly opinionated, I am also just a tad nervous, ans can't think straight enough to blog properly. I shall, instead, leave you with the an adorkably hip wizard and his Wee Free grandaby.

Cons: bringing the weird to life with the whole family.