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02 October 2008 @ 02:17 pm
British Fantasy  
I attended some foggy event a week or two back called the British Fantasy Convention, held in Nottingham. The first thing I was confronted with was a buxom female in fishnets and corset. I thought I'd made a terrible mistake and that it was the British Fancydress Convention. But no, it was a literary event after all. Of a kind. The first spectacle I observed was that of my creative writing teacher appearing on a panel and talking impenetrable rubbish. He was actually shouting at a fellow panelist half his size, about what no-one in the audience seemed to have any idea. I'm sure he was just furious that the other bloke sold more books than he did. The other chap had made a trilogy stretch to eight books, which I think is very clever.
I left before the end and made for the bar. Though I might not have bothered. I asked the barman what fine red wine he'd got in store, whereupon he angled at me the label of a single bottle. The label actually stated "Red Wine". No information about grape, country of origin etc. Astonished, I asked to see the White Wine list. Another bottle, labeled "White Wine" was gamely presented under my perplexed beak. That's it I though, we're in Viz country, where all the cigarettes will be labeled Fags. Is this how they live in the Midlands? Is it the local tribal way of uncomplicating life? Anyway I bought a glass of the "red". I don't know what it was but you wouldn't even gargle with the stuff. I had to go and find a an off-license and smuggle in a decent bottle of Claret.
Everywhere I looked my CW teacher was going ha-hah he-heh with his hideous cronies. Never once introduced me to any of them, the bastard. Though I did get to meet Conrad Williams, Tim Lebbon and the charming Sara Pinborough (whom I thought twinkled at me), all published writers and a damned sight better than that buffoon who purports to teach me the art of scribbling. At least they had the courtesy to ask me what I was working on, which is more than he ever does. I got a bit worried when one of them said it sounds rather like something they'd already heard. I went pale when my CW teacher's name was mentioned, and then they all went quiet. I hope he hasn't stolen my novel so that he can pass it off as his own. I certainly wouldn't put it past him, the uncivilised brute. I need to look into this.
Current Location: supine
Current Mood: anxiousanxious
Current Music: bach
mylefteyemylefteye on October 3rd, 2008 01:18 pm (UTC)
Your CW teacher sounds a terrible boor. How do you put with him?