Caution, this entry will update frequently as I remember, edit and rename.
It is doubly worse with a convention like SPX, which is the cream of the northeastern crop of comickers. Everyone is interesting and friendly and fabulous, and you get home and you miss all the fun. I wonder if it's the festival atmosphere or the people I actually miss?
I was visited by no less than six readers of my comics from gURL.com. Last year it was just Dana (which made me giddy for months), so you can imagine how thrilled I was to hear, "Hey, I read your comics every Wednesday!" multiple times in one day!
Joe Komenda picked me and my crate up at 9am on his way up from Raleigh. Much to our chagrin, we realized too late that he should have come up the night before and slept on the guest cot instead of leaving his house at four in the morning. Oh well! The drive was lovely and filled with much entertaining conversation and comic industry gabbing.
Arrived at 1pm. Con opened at 2pm. We managed to set up in good time. I was distressed that our tables were in the back, on an end, which meant less than ideal traffic. HA-rumph. Made the best of it by using my stripper boots as card holders!
A man whose name escapes me recognized my comics and said that someone had submitted them to the Eisner Award nominations. He said remembered them because he was sorting through the considerations for said awards. Woot! And I got invited to room 510 for the Nerdlinger Awards at 10:30pm.
Dana and Miah came by later in the evening and hung out together. It was great seeing Dana again. Both of their lives are changing drastically. I bought Owly and Korgi books for Miah's unborn son because I can't go to her baby shower. Last year she was buying booties for someone else's shower. Gosh, how much happens in a year! We ate dinner at the Cheesecake Factory, but we couldn't really talk over the din. We hugged and agreed to get together again before another year passes.
Felt guilty for not spending time at the con networking, but no one had invited me to a con dinner that night, so nothing wasted! Went to the Nerdlingers to give my acceptance speech for the Best Trifecta of Comics About Masturbation (the Hat-Trick Vajayjay Award). Robin Enrico played Nine Inch Nails's "Last" while I spoke, and there was much cheering and rabble rousing. Many thanks to Katie for nominating me :) I now need to make a trophy cabinet to sit on my tables at cons, proudly displaying my Nerdling next to my Kim Yale. (The Kim Yale trophy being lost in transit and the Nerdling being a beer bottle, I'm sure it would make for an interesting commentary piece). I also need to put "Award Winning Creator Rachel Nabors" on every bloody comic I publish now. I wish I had thought of that sooner! Remind me.
Afte the awards, I caught up with Robin Enrico, whom I hadn't seen in a year. I wish I could have spoken with him more, but the awards were made out of beer, and everyone was a churning mass of inebriation. I eventually churned my way out of the room and sought calmer, less warm and testosterone-infused digs. I joined Joe and company in the hotel bar and had a Flirtini. Somewhere along the conversations, a young lady whose name (if you know it, it is on the tip of my tongue) escapes me, coined the term "clitorati." I think there should be a zine or a site by this name. Who's with me?
This was the day that fans started popping up. I had the pleasure of meething Laura, who coerced her aunt into driving her to the convention center just to see me! It occurred to me that I get an awful lot of attention from girls seeking more female-friendly and female-owned comics, so I started insisting that other female comickers I met send me links to their sites along with banners so I could start a Hall of Chicks Comics page on my site and spread the love.
I made a point of trying to walk to tables and introduce myself on Sunday, but there wasn't enough time to look at people's comics or do more than introduce myself and get their names. I did stop by several publisher's booths, mainly Adhouse and Oni, something I never have done before. Yay for me! I was a dear in the headlights when I learned that the man (James) I was introducing myself to was The Editor at Oni. I was lucky I remembered to give him a copy of my latest mini, but I failed to introduce myself as the winner of the fabulous Kim Yale Award.
Oh, how I kick myself in hindsight.
I sold out of my posters at last, so I turned the display board around and wrote "Buy my comics or buy me chai," on the back, which I hung out infront of my table. Paul, the motorcycling staffer, was the first to bring me a chai and he was swiftly followed by my friend Brett from the Combichrist show in DC. Justin Jordan, a nice man I don't get to see enough of, invited me to join he and his companions for shish kabobs, but I lost his number, so Brett and I went out for yummies at Tara Thai. I did feel bad that I wasn't networking, but I was pretty damn tired and was happy to spend time quietly with a friend. When I came back, the Ignatz Awards party was still going strong. A bunch of tartlets were heading out to Karaoke, but I needed to change shoes and was too late to join the excursion, much to my dismay, sniffle. So I went to the after party, had fondue, and ran out of business cards. As I trudged up the stares, I began to lean forward such that by the time I reached the top of the flight, I was crawling. When I got back into the room, I didn't want to go back downstairs, I was so tired. It was only midnight, and I know that last SPX I went much longer. But last SPX I didn't have school or deadlines that kept me up for 24 hours the week before. I accepted that I had done my best and settled my unusually good-feeling feet into bed.
I wish I could have done the following: Stop by Robin and MK's, Raina's and Keeling's tables more frequently. Go out to Karaoke with the girls on Saturday night. Stay up late at the Ignatz afterparty. Go to dinner with Justin Jordan and company. Go swimming in the hotel pool.
Special Thanks to...
Joe Komenda for being the best con partner evah!
The people who brought me chai.
The fans who came to my table and didn't run when I gushed all over them.
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