This week, I had a guest blog on Asimov’s, about writing science fiction poetry in a 14th Century French style.
I used notes I wrote a decade ago to teach the Triolet style at SCA events. Reading those notes felt like time-travel, or uncovering a historic artifact in an archeological dig. (And not just because my closet needs to be cleaned.)
My prose style, even given this was non-fiction, was more stilted, had more “weasel words” like “seems, almost, as if, kind of.” You could taste the insecurity.
(That said, oy does my blog post have a lot of typos in it. No don’t read it. Ok read it. But… not while I’m looking.)
This weekend I’m attending the 45th CWRU Science Fiction Marathon on campus. I started attending with the 18th Marathon as an undergraduate freshman in 1993. (At the time I had no idea it would be important to count how many I’d attend! There’s a ritual.)
After I graduated, in the 2000s, the marathon seemed to be dying out, but it held on, and these days it’s as strong as ever, with some of the kids of original attendees in the audience with their parents, and a new crop of SF loving undergrads. And of course all my dear friends, like Charlie Knox and Jim Nauer, who will take turns in the projection booth.
It does feel like I’m returning to my past a lot lately. I’m working on getting my armor together and getting into shape to re-authorize as an SCA fighter. Is this a midlife crisis? Or am I just yearning for a time before the world was ending?
Meh. I’m not going to give myself too much grief over it.
