English Conference

I'm awake. It is 5:05 am. I'm about to leave for the airport. What? You thought I get up this early because I like it?

I'm going to an English conference. I went to one of these last year. Had a great time. There are a few things that bug me, though. Remember, I am an English major. This is what I do.

For the next few days I will be surrounded by other English majors. I will listen to crappy poetry and literary analysis that a monkey could have written. I will listen to short fiction that, despite what the review panel thinks, is not as good as mine. No worries. I know my strenghths. I also know that snooty English types in their sweater vests do not like horror fiction.

Last year I sent in a more mainstream short story (Available in Westering Volume 3. I've meant to send a bunch of them out but I haven't had the cash to spare for postage.) and wowed the crowd. It is a pretty good little story but it isn't my personal favorite. This year I sent in what I like as opposed to what I thought they would like. Is this a mistake? Maybe. This isn't like sending a Lord of the Rings fantasy story to Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, though. Screw them if they don't like genre fiction. I'm fine with it. I just feel bad for all the poor souls who won't get to have as good a time now because they won't be able to hav ethe shit scared out of them by me.

Of course, if they realy want to be frightened, they can always go listen to some of the poetry.

I will keep you all updated as the conference goes on. Catch you on the flipside.