ravenna_c_tan: (slytherclaw)


This weekend is the Outwrite queer lit fest in Washington, DC, and I’m honored to be this year’s keynote. Instead of doing a dull speech about how ancient and wise I am (hah) I’m doing a pile of events and panels:

FRIDAY NIGHT I’ll be one of the lineup of storytellers at Smut Slam Cabaret, where I’ll tell a brief adventure of how being an erotica writer almost sent me to the emergency room. Don’t try this at home, kids. No wait, home is exactly where you should try these things…

SATURDAY DAYTIME at the DC Center:
Free and open to the public!

I’ll be exhibiting and selling books from 10am to 1pm and then sporadically between my many shindigs:

1:00 PM THIS IS HOW WE DO IT
Panel on queer publishing. With me will be Lisa Moore (Redbone Press), Steve Berman (Lethe Press), Lori Perkins (Riverdale Ave Books), and moderated by S. Andrea Allen (BLF Press).

3:00 PM CIRCLET PRESS 25th ANNIVERSARY HISTORY AND BINGO GAME
I’ll tell you a tale of how the past 25 years of publishing adventure has gone, and to keep it interesting we’ll make it a bingo game! That way you can win books. Come have fun with me.

5:00 PM EROTICA READING
I’ll be reading with three other authors, Christian Baines, Dena Hankins, and Michael M. Jones.

6:00 PM KEYNOTE PANEL: THE POLITICAL AND THE EROTIC
With me will be some of the writers and editors on the front lines of the intersection of sex writing and politics, Sunny Moraine, Michael M. Jones, and Lori Perkins.

All events except the Smut Slam are at The DC Center For the LGBTQ Community, 2000 14th Street NW, Suite 105, Washington, DC 20009.

If you’re on Facebook you can see the complete lineup of events here: https://www.facebook.com/pg/outwritedc/events/

If you’re avoiding Facebook for political reasons, unfortunately I can’t find the full schedule of events anywhere, and given that many LGBTQ folks have very good reasons to avoid Facebook it’s a bit disappointing that the event’s main website doesn’t seem to have a schedule up (but maybe I’m just not looking in the right place): http://thedccenter.org/outwrite/

Mirrored from blog.ceciliatan.com.

ravenna_c_tan: (feather)

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

A knock on the door woke me up and I was surprised to find myself alone in one of the suite’s bedrooms. A heap of bedding on the couch seemed to indicate J had crashed here last night, too. I was still in most of my clothes and my eyes felt scratchy, but otherwise I was in fairly good repair.

Carynne was at the door, looking a little tired, her smile a little thin. “Good morning.”

“What time is it?” I asked.

“One thirty. Jonathan said to say goodbye for him. He had to get back and didn’t want to wake you.”

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ravenna_c_tan: (feather)

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

We ended up at this funky, candle-lit (too dark, actually) place with ringlet-haired waitresses wearing patchouli and a large vegetarian selection.

The important thing about the dinner I should relay is not anything to do with the food or what we talked about or anything like that, of course, but the fact that I FINALLY realized that, hey, if I played my cards right the possibility existed that I might be able to sleep with someone I genuinely liked and knew the name of.

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ravenna_c_tan: (feather)

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

Back at the hotel the others were feeling dinnerish and plans were tossed about for going here, doing that, seeing this… while people wandered in and out of the main suite and got dressed and so on.

I changed my shirt and hustled Jonathan to an elevator before anyone noticed we were gone. Once we were on the street and moving toward the Metro I said “Sorry to be so James Bond, but I had to get away from them for a while.”

“Understandable,” he said and nodded. “So where are we going?”

Hmm, so I was in the proverbial driver’s seat, even though we took public transit.

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ravenna_c_tan: (feather)

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

We were a three vehicle caravan still. Digger headed off for New York in his rental but Jonathan’s hatchback joined us. Bart and I both rode with him, which was fun. J was very easy to get along with and I got the feeling Bart genuinely liked him, too.

The drive to DC was so short in comparison to what we’d been doing each day that we were shocked to arrive so early in the day and find our rooms not ready. Everyone milled around with little heaps of luggage except me — I tagged along behind Carynne as she sought out the manager. Carynne went for the jugular when she found him and we only waited maybe fifteen minutes in the lobby before he gave her keys and had upgraded us to the presidential suite. (Digger would have been proud.) As she accepted the keys and switched her expression from tangled annoyance to California smile, she saw me out of the corner of her eye. She pressed a key into my hand.

“So, tell me, is Señor McCabe rooming with us?”

“I, ouch. I don’t know.”

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