#writing convention

[scifrey]

Just got home from #WritersConnX - tired but filled with thrumming energy! Met some amazing people, had some incredible conversations, and looking forward to checking out everybody's stories.

[threeravenspublishing]

Raven and the Crow Author Interviewed on TV!

If you’re a fan of the Raven and the Crow series and you’ve never met the author, now’s your chance to at least see him! Michael K. Falciani was recently interviewed by a TV station local to his area. ABC’s KOLO 8 spent a segment covering Michael’s writing career with specific emphasis on his newest release in the Raven and the Crow universe, Shores of Blood. Click the picture to watch the video,…

[jpohlmanwriting]

Hey all. Sorry for the late promo, but there's a free, virtual, in-your-living-room writing convention taking place this weekend. It's called WriteHive, it operates off of Discord, and it's awesome.

I moderated panels on history, on war, and on the revenge of the divine. I also was a panelist on a debate between hard and soft magic.

You should come through!

[gwen-tolios]

Are you a queer SFF writer? You should attend Rainbow Space Magic!

Rainbow Space Magic is a free, virtual convention for queer SFF writers happening this weekend Sept 30-Oct 1.

🌟📔(Free Tickets)🌟📔

I will 100% admit to being a panelist (come see me on Writing Your True Self: Authentic and Diverse Identities on Sept 30 @ 12 central) but there are some other really cool ones.

How to market your work, researching vs experience sharing, building an online community, how to plan a series, and so much more!

As it's free, you have nothing to lose and everything to learn. Come for one panel or them all!

🪄📔(Free Tickets)🪄📔

[starsintheskyandtheeye]

Phantom Lane

Danny Phantom and Lois Lane are an under utilized combo.

One of Lane's sources in a story she was following comes to her with a tip that LexCorp has found a new, and steady source of kyrptonite. Well there's nothing else for her to do but to go the source, one Amity Park- smackdab in the middle of nowheresville.

"No Clark you have your own story and I don't need my partner with me 24/7. Go work on your mysterious expose on the lead levels in underprivileged metropolis neighborhoods."

Only when she finally gets there, after a very uncomfortable flight, in an actual plane for once, she's not a fan. She finds a very confusing situation.

LexCorp employees seem to be disguising themselves by dressing in white and pretending to be government employees, already a story. But they are using this "disguise" to abduct what look like ghosts?

"No Perry I'm not saying ghosts are real, what do you take me for, Clark? No, I'm saying that Superman is an alien so it's not such a reach that these beings are as well. And well, if they are ghosts, then I'm going to be the one to break the story that ghosts are REAL"

So she's going around interviewing the "concerned citizens, once a terrified town now a collection of people just trying to go about their day in this strange new normal." It makes a good line but really that is the vibe she gets. There's ghostly updates along with the weather (and a Fenton? driving update??) but most everyone seems to be fine with working around the occasional ghostly drama.

Her pizza is delivered in a bowl.

Her main sources end up being very convenient for her, at least in terms of location. It's important to be unbiased so she finds sources willing to talk to her with opinions across the spectrum. Including, two doctors Fenton - negative, one Danny Fenton (son of the doctors and without a named credit to protect privacy) - positive, one English teacher - neutral. Danny Fenton is also able to point her towards one Valerie Gray (no comment) who is able to get her in contact with the most commonly seen "ghost" in the town.

"Your name is Phantom correct? Is that how you would prefer to be addressed? A little on the nose considering your alleged ghostly nature, no?"

"So your claim is that Kryptonite is a byproduct of ectoplasm, something that makes sense when you believe in ghosts, which apparently I do now. Although I will need independent verification of course.

"But you're saying that when ectoplasm crystalizes it becomes what is commonly known as kryptonite, something that is famously toxic to Kryptonians. How exactly did these "Guys In White" come to learn and harvest this dangerous material. And less important but confusing to me personally, how can a material that has been proven to be sourced from astroids be supernatural in origin?

"Right, death of a planet imprinting on ectoplasm, no makes total sense."

She leaves Amity Park with enough material to write three separate articles, four bruised ribs from a particularly violent escape from alphabetically challenged weirdos, four new sources to draw upon for said articles, two new superhero contacts, and a new found respect for rectangular shapes.

She is going to get some scientists from Star Labs down here to get a tertiary verification and then she is going to write the biggest article since the introduction of Superman.

And Clark can be jealous since he may have gotten the Superman Saves Metropolis from Raging Wildfires story but she's going to take down a pseudo-government agency, announce the existence of ghosts, AND open up extraterrestrial relations all with one article.

Beat that sweetheart

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

i met jared padalecki today and the first thing i did was gesture to his pants and went “oh my gosh you don’t have any staples on your pants this time!” and he immediately laughed and said something like “not this time” and i asked if i could hug him and he just said “oh get in here” and gave me the BIGGEST squeeze. before i left i just said “i love you so much, and congrats on you and gen for 15 years” and he smiled, put a hand to his chest and seemed like he was genuinely touched (that man doesn’t play about his wife) and went “thank you so much, i love you too”

he was the sweetest man. i’ve ever met. he’s so soft and gentle and keeps such heavy eye contact. i genuinely have no words. what a sweet, precious human being. AND HES SO TALL MWAHAHSB

i also made some new friends in line, and i’m so thankful for this fandom. i love jared:(💘

[angeloftuesdayy]

I just want to point out, that

in the episode about the supernatural convention, an agenda item at the convention was "the homoerotic subtext in supernatural".

mind you, the books ended with Dean going to hell (it was said in this very episode) , so Cas was NOT introduced yet.

hence the 'homoerotic tension' they want to discuss can only be about Sam and Dean.

just putting that out there...

(not to forget the gay Sam and Dean cosplayers that are a couple and Dean smiling afterwards to himself when he was at the car, waiting for Sam)

[ghostbsuter]

He'd moved to metropolis on a whim.

The city was big, he's earning good money via commissioned things (most people come to him for cosplay actually, who knew that knowing how to build a sci-fi gun that doesn't even work would be this wanted??) and he's got a nice apartment!

Superman and Supergirl were the active heroes, he didn't need to involve himself anymore with the world of heroes, he would continue as a civilian. It was better this way.

So how come LexLuthor, of all people, what is his luck?, sends him an invitation to LexCorp AND once declined, seemed to have created some sort of energy absorbing weapon that directly zoomed in on his immediate whenever around?

Civilian life is one thing.

Being rescued via Super for the 9th time is another.

"Hey Danny." Supergirl grins, they're floating to the side as Superman deals with Lex.

"Hey, Supergirl." Danny replies with a sigh, holding his bag.

[ejsuperstar]

Imagine you live in pelican town. The new farmer has been here a couple weeks now and seems to be settling in, except... He's picking the weirdest friend choices. Like sure it's not weird to befriend the local fisherman, especially when he has an interest in fishing himself, but you're pretty sure you've seen him rooting through the Saloon's garbage with the local homeless man. As well, he keeps harassing the poor guy who works at Joja even though you KNOW he doesn't want to be friends with him.

And since you're on the topic of weirdness, isn't it odd he seemingly runs everywhere at a full sprint? Or just... Eats entire raw fish while fishing for "energy reasons"...

...

Despite all that, it's too early to call him off putting or anything... He has been engaging in town traditions, and he's started helping out with the old community centre. He's probably like the rest of you. Someone with a few quirks, that will fit in with the valley great!

Surely he can't get any weirder... Right?

[threeravenspublishing]

Do You Love Writers' Conferences?

Do You Love Writers' Conferences?

If you do and live near the Chicago area (or don’t mind flying or driving a bit), you can’t go wrong with the In the Trenches Writers’ Conference coming up in November! Lectures, workshops, pitch sessions, and the networking opportunities afforded to those who attend the “barcon” during the after-hours will all be worth the price of admission and travel. Guest speakers include Dave Butler, Jodi…

[jpohlmanwriting]

Here's me talking about this coming weekend's virtual #writing convention, WriteHive! It's our fifth annual event. You should check it out.

[burningcheese-merchant]

Silent Salt's countenance is... a unique one. Not hideous, not quite, but not conventionally attractive by any means. Coupled with a cluster of scars and other ancient forms of injury further marring his face, he was never an easy one on the eyes, so to speak. He always wore the helm because it was his deeds that mattered, not his identity - or that was how he once thought, in his distant, heroic past. But, in painful, unfortunate truth, it was also partially because he simply didn't want to deal with the staring. With the shock. With the thinly veiled disgust. The forced politeness angered him the most; he knew they were lying, he knew his face perturbed them. He would've respected them so much more if they had just spoken plain.

There had always existed this shallow element of self-loathing within him; never more so than it does with regards to White Lily. She's so lovely, so captivating, and he's... he has to wear a mask all the time, just for some semblance of peace of mind. Hers is a sweet, delicate, almost ethereal beauty. He is grim and gruff and all dark, sharp edges, inside and out. If by some miracle his personality and status as Beast of Silence doesn't drive her away, then his face will. Like it had so many others.

He has never allowed anyone to remove his helm. Not even his friends and colleagues, both then and now (especially not now. Shadow Milk's petty jabs are insufferable even with Salt's face obscured; revealing it again would only escalate the jester's mockery). Even just trying to touch it sparks a terrible rage. It's his security blanket, in a way. Something that grants him a modicum of control over his supposed destiny. He cannot change how he looks, but he can at least hide it. And hide it, he will. From everyone he can, for as long as he can. From her most of all.

Perhaps he could've been more... polite in his refusal of her touch, the first few times. He saw a hand wrapped in green floating towards his face and he responded. The regret that washed over him at the sound of her yelp - startled and pained, an accessory to the tremor in her wrist born from him grasping it so tight - was overwhelming, almost suffocating, and yet... he did it again, the next attempt she made. And the one after that. And the one after that. Nevertheless, for reasons unknown, she persisted.

Must've been that morbid curiosity of hers.

The one time she asked him why he never rid himself of the helm, he answered her simply. "Because I don't want to." Five words - six, technically - conveyed to her through the curling of his fingers and the rattle of his gauntlets as he signed them to her. And she took it well, all things considered. No disappointment, no rebuttals, no further inquiries. Only a slow, thoughtful nod and nothing else. It was a mercy and a relief he didn't think he'd feel so thankful for, until he did.

Something told Silent Salt that she already knew the answer that hid behind the first one. Intuition? Their Soul Jam connection? That glint in her eye that resembled sympathy more than he would've liked? Whatever it is, it hardly matters in the end. She asked once. He answered once. She didn't ask again. That was the end of it.

With time, she grew more bold. No more reaching for his helm; it took a few tries but she learned her lesson there. Instead she let her hands rest on his cold shoulders. Trail along the dents and grooves in his chest. Take one of his gauntlets prisoner, turning it into a test subject, the apple of her curious eye as she studied the metal plates big and small encasing his fingers.

"Your hands are quite large," she remarked one day, some of it to him and some of it just to herself, her eyes still fused to the black sheet of his palm as she spoke. "My friend, Golden Cheese... She once told me that your comrade has large hands, too. Twice the size of hers, in fact. Are they bigger than yours, too?"

Yes, he told her, if his memory served. Once upon a time, Shadow Milk had tried to draft blueprints for armor that would actually suit Burning Spice's brutish proportions, and used Silent Salt's own as both a model and a controlled variable in his design experiments. Spice was as much a foolhardy thrillseeker then as he is now, charging into battle with his beads and bracelets and little else on his person. Whenever the five of them reconvened - and those meetings became fewer and fewer with time - Shadow Milk would nag him incessantly about it. Clucked at him like a mother hen would at an unruly chick. It was once his way of showing concern. Once.

The gauntlets were dirty and must have felt quite cold and unpleasant to the touch. But if White Lily minded, she made no sign of such. In fact, she showed the opposite; if he dared to believe what those slender, linen-wrapped fingers weaving through his own ironclad, mannish ones told him, she even seemed to find comfort in them. In him.

She grew bold, and he let her. A time eventually came when he could no longer help himself - but it was a hard-earned victory if there ever was one. Despite their bond, be it the one forged from their shared divinity or the one forged from their tentative friendship, his old habits and reservations still bound him in chains; memories from a time long gone, of men and women shying away from his sight. Of children rudely gawking. As darkness descended upon his soul, he came to resent them and their harsh reactions, for it was because of them that he looked like this in the first place. Every blade that carved into the flesh of his cheeks. Every creature with terrible claws that sought his eyes as trophies. Every gauntlet that looked just like his own that punched, slapped, poked; whatever the owner could do to leave behind their mark of conquest and shame. Silent Salt endured it all for their sake, and all the thanks he ever got was being gazed upon as a freak. A cautionary tale. A garish art display.

The world branded him a monster long before he ever became one. What reason did they have to be so distraught when he finally did? Is this not what they always believed him to have been anyway?

But White Lily took no part in this wholesale rejection. How could she, when deep down, she was hardly any different? And who would he be to continue mimicking his persecutors, like he has been for far too long?

One day, he found himself under a microscope again. It was cute, how her brow would furrow the slightest bit and she would start to purse her lips the stronger her single-minded focus became. A strand of snow white hair escaped its place atop her head and came dangling, teasing the tip of her nose; yet still, it went ignored in favor of the knight looming past it. Few questioned Silent Salt's bravery, himself included, but now... now he can feel his accursed face growing warm at the thought of tucking that rogue strand of hair behind her ear. Such a deceptively simple thing.

He stood still as a statue as her hands traveled up the metallic expanse of his torso. Up, up, up, along plates that had long lost their smoothness and shine, dipping into scratches and dents left by friend and foe alike, those old scars he wore on the outside. Sneaking past a familiar silhouette, just barely grazing the tips of that fabled fleur-de-lis. He never envied Burning Spice and where his own Soul Jam resided, but in hindsight, perhaps Silent Salt was never much better. With how seldomly he removed his armor, it may as well be his flesh by now. And within his flesh the Light of Silence nested, glowing brighter and emitting a faint pulse upon White Lily's brief disturbance. A broken heart, still as death, woken from its eternal slumber. Dared to beat again by she who held onto its missing half.

Her hands rose to his neck. Some ancient warrior's instinct demanded he take action against this would-be assassin, but he paid it no mind. He knew better. Not that White Lily wasn't capable of such barbarism; she has proven differently a thousand times over by now. He simply knows what an assassin looks like, and what a liar feigning innocence looks like, too - and now, in this moment, White Lily was neither.

His breath caught in his throat when those hands grasped at his head and he felt his helmet begin to rise. Slowly, carefully, betraying their master's hesitation. There was a slight tremor in her wrists - was she expecting him to suddenly reach up and grab her again? To try to stop her?

...The former came to pass, that much was true. But instead of pushing her away, this time, he found the courage to do the opposite: with his hands eclipsing her own, he guided them up and away, taking his helmet with them.

He loosened his grip just enough to let her hands go free. From there, he lowered his helmet and held it tight - so much so that that telltale rattling filled both their ears.

It felt strange for the wind and sun caress his skin again after so long. Once upon a time, he welcomed their embrace; once upon a time, they were a beloved respite, the only reward he ever wanted for himself after a long battle. They never ran away or judged him for this unfortunate face of his; in fact, once upon a time, he might've said and thought that they were the only ones in the whole world that ever believed he was handsome.

White Lily did not run away. She did not veil her disgust behind false politeness. She did not judge that unfortunate face of his.

All he could behold in her own face and eyes was that same old curiosity, adorned with that familiar glint of sympathy and shadowed by sorrow.

She gave her hands back to him. Cradled his face as he cradled his helm, albeit more gently. Ran her thumb over a faded gash in his cheek. Ghosted her fingertips over the claw marks crisscrossing over his eyes.

Silent Salt wondered if she'd already guessed his eyes are purple. He didn't ask. She probably did.

"It must have been terrible," she murmured, some of it to him and some of it to herself, as she observed the scar that threatened to split his hairline.

He nodded. She said no more, but there was no need; he understood what she meant. "It must have been terrible, how you earned each of these." "It must have been terrible, how others would shun you for what you endured." "It must have been terrible, how you felt compelled to hide behind a mask all this time, for lack of remembering any other way to exist." Only White Lily could say so much with so little. He always cherished it.

Through her quiet, endless searching, he could sense that she wanted to know more. In her eyes were questions that she wouldn't let out of her mouth. She wanted to know where the scars came from. What caused them. Who. How. Why.

Despite that morbid curiosity of hers, she did not ask. Although it likely pained her, she held her tongue and gave him peace. This was something else Silent Salt admired, something else that made him favor her above all others. For unlike others, her politeness was real.

He caught her stealing a glance at his lips, the faintest shade of pink tinting her cheeks as she did so. Gone were her sorrow and sympathy, leaving curiosity behind. In their place came... something else.

Perhaps the wind and sun weren't the only ones who believed he was handsome anymore.

She grew bold, and took a step closer - the only step left to take, with how close they already stood. Placing her feet atop his own in a small, adorable way to compensate for her height.

Only now did his supposed bravery return, and grant him the strength to tuck that strand of hair behind her ear. She seemed surprised, more so by his sudden gesture than she'd ever been by his face, the warm color in her cheeks turning more vibrant. He wondered if she could see that he felt just as bashful. She probably did.

She stood on her tiptoes, inviting him to tilt his head down with the soft nudge of her palm against the nape of his neck. He did so without resistance; now it was her turn to guide him.

She grew bold, and pressed a kiss to his scarred lips. And he let her.

[sword-wielding-sapphic]

every other crime fiction author looked at Sherlock Holmes and said "hmm, he never shows any interest in women and he hates small talk, this must be because he is incredibly psychologically disturbed due to some dark backstory. we should make this the standard for detective characters going forward"

my brother in christ, have you considered that maybe he's just gay and autistic?

[apolaskiart]

My two favorite rabies creatures from the dimwood

[philcon-programming]

Philcon 2024!

Do you love Science Fiction, Fantasy, or Horror? Are you a Writer, a Gamer, a Costumer, or a Filker? Are you looking for a weekend of distraction in your life? If you’re in the vicinity of Philadelphia- or more specifically, Cherry Hill, New Jersey- there’s an event coming up on November 22 – 24, 2024 that we’d love for you to come check out. If you aren’t already familiar with PHILCON, here’s what you should know: * We started out as a literary-centric SF convention in 1936, but have grown to embrace all mediums of storytelling (movies, television, comics, podcasts, etc) as well as expanding to cover the Fantasy and Horror genres. Most of our participants are authors, and there will be Readings by them and Autograph sessions all throughout the weekend, in addition to their participation on discussion panels. * While many of our Literary panels are about SF, Fantasy, or Horror topics in general, we also have an emphasis on panels discussing the craft side and business sides of writing, for those looking to develop as authors. * One of our content tracks for the weekend is dedicated to Science & Technology itself, not just how it is used in fiction. * We will be screening several movies over the weekend, and Anime will also be shown in our Anime & Animation room at certain times. * There will be Workshops and Demos for Costuming (including "Fabric Manipulation", "How to Make Foam Armor", "Make-up for The Stage", and "A Pox on Patterns!") and Art (including "Using Alcohol Inks", "Block Printing With Your Own Designs", "How to Make A Controlled Color Palette", and "Making Wire-Wrapped Jewelry"), and if you’ve got an outfit you made that you’d like to show off on stage, we’ve got a yearly Costume Contest. * If you are a Filker- or just enjoy listening to other people sing and play music- Philcon has a room dedicated Filk room, and this year’s Musical Guest of Honor is Cecilia Eng. As Cecilia is not often on the east coast, if you’d like to see her play in person, now is an excellent change to do so without flying to the other side of the country. Lynn Gold, another west-coast Filker, will also be joining us this year. There are also Concerts scheduled for Sirens & Liars, Half a Slime Devil, Brenda and Chuck Shaffer-Shiring, and Sara Henya. * Since the Gaming track moved from an upstairs suite to the “Gallery” room on the first floor, it’s had the literal room to expand the number of games it can run, and we’ve got a bevy of them on the schedule for 2024, as well as a bank of games for you to choose from during Open Gaming hours. There's also a LARP Workshop Series being run by Spectacle INK. * Our Artist Guests of Honor for 2024 are Gina Matarazzo and Matthew Stewart. Each will be giving a presentation on our Main Stage on Saturday afternoon, as well as having their art displayed in our Art Show. * Our Principal Speaker for 2024 is MAX GLADSTONE, and we also have Nghi Vo as our Special Guest. Both will be doing Readings, Autograph Sessions, panels, and a main stage Q&A session. An interactive version of our schedule can be found HERE. While a simplified, static overview, organized by track, can be found HERE. Our LinkTree can be found HERE. We would especially value your support this year, as Philcon’s Covid-19 policy in previous years (which required both mandatory masking and proof of vaccination in an attempt to avoid becoming a super-spreader event as several other conventions had) has led to a slow but noticeable decline in attendance. While masking in public spaces is still heavily encouraged, neither proof of vaccination nor masking are required to attend the convention in 2024. We’d love your help in making this year a success, so that we’re in a good position to bring you all something really fantastic for our upcoming 90th anniversary. We’d also love to give you a great weekend right now, for reasons I doubt we need to explain. Here’s to surviving the next few years! ~ Lynati Head of Programming, Philcon 2024