Man, why do I ever miss one of these? They’re always the best time of the year. And, as usual, I’m no picture-snapper, have to rely on what others post. And, this time, instead of snabbing pics from around and then trying (and failing) to cite those who actually deserve picture-credit, I’ll just link what I found on twitter (the only social media I’m on. well, that and Goodreads, but Goodreads isn’t for this kind of stuff, I don’t think [okay, I’m on Litsy, but it’s also not for this kind of stuff]).
First was Librarian’s Day (I THINK the apostrophe goes there, singular-like?), which was in the big room, with wonderful people and free books—and lunch—for all:
And now three snapshots of the same panel, from different phones. Kind of like a Rashomon, just, with no real crime to pivot & dodge around:
Then it was the Short Story panel:
Then the last panel:
Followed of course by the banquet:
I also did selfies at the banquet with Linda Addison and Scott Edelman, but they probably went on Instagram or somewhere, which I don’t have access to.
And, my table, or, Becky Spratford’s table, which she let the rest of us share (not pictured: Jonathan Mayberry, Andy’s wife, and a couple-three people I don’t think I actually know):
Since it looks like WordPress is truncating Becky’s tweet, cutting the image in half, I’ll just post it here:
And, don’t know if there’s pics anywhere, but Lucy Snyder and I got to do this award. Congrats to Rena:
And, the black & white makes it feel like the end of a thing, yeah. But it’s really the middle. The night had many more hours to go, and it used as many of them as it could:
Anyway, next year’s Grady Hendrix and somewhere in England. Maybe I show up? Then, 2021 is:
And, in scraping up images from around, I stumbled onto this, which is so, so, so cool, even if it doesn’t embed pretty. It’s the Stoker Awards through the years, back to the eighties:
And, all I lost in Michigan was my favorite pair of sunglasses. But what I gained was worth so much more: good talks with old friends, and lots of horror. StokerCon always feels like home. Can’t wait to get back there again.