I’m on my way to Kansas tomorrow, not via a tornado or even a huge hot-air balloon. Just an ordinary Boeing 717, courtesy of Midwest Airlines.
By 9:00 p.m., Central Time, I should be nestled in my dormitory room at the University of Kansas, holding my breath, waiting for the start of Jim Gunn’s SF Writers’ Workshop Sunday afternoon.
Or I may be sipping on a a glass of Chardonnay and talking shop by nine. Chuck Von Nordheim, one of the other workshop participants, will be arriving earlier Saturday and he’s promised to have a bottle of vino chilling when I arrive.
Everyone else should be rolling in Sunday morning. The official start is late Sunday afternoon, when the eight participants of Professor Gunn’s short-story workshop and the sixteen participants of Kij Johnson’s novel workshop will meet with Jim, Kij and Chris McKitterick, assistant director at the University’s Center for the Study of Science Fiction.
Workshop sessions start Monday morning and I will try my best to post regularly about what is going on.
Have I mentioned that I am beside myself? I have never been much good at waiting; like our two cats, I want what I want noooow. But Saturday night will get here soon enough and it will carry me over until Sunday.
Red wine and another writer to talk to — it doesn’t get much better than that. Even if there’s no wine.