Today is the first day of WorldCon in San Antonio and I’m not there.
I was supposed to be. I got a membership, made a reservation, arranged for child care, all that. Then… Well, then the garage tried to kill me. I was out trying to shut the door, and it fell off its track. It didn’t crush me, but it did manage to trap me inside the garage for a little while until I managed to pry it up and crawl out.
This was the last in a long line of not-so-subtle signals that we might need a new garage. Which costs money. Hotel rooms and flights and cons cost money too, and, well, I figured I should prioritize the thing that seemed more likely to cause me or my family major injury. So, no Texas for me.
Does this really matter, writing-wise? Maybe? Some? I know it matters to me, because I’m losing out on a chance to see friends. Otherwise, it’s hard to say. Every con is a chance to meet new people, to reestablish contacts, to hear about new opportunities, and hell, to just gossip. Going to cons has without a doubt been very useful to me as a writer. So while missing this one con will (hopefully) not cripple my career, it hurts a bit not to go.
Partially because of the sense of opportunities missed.
Mostly though, it’s probably because there are people having fun without me.