Fred was kind enough to invite me to also be a guest at Hypericon last year, which I happily agreed to do. Unfortunately, for a variety if reasons, I had to cancel that trip. And this year the baby sitting arrangements for my kids fell through, my publisher moved my date for turning in my novel, Dreaming Creek, from the end of July to the end of June (which is actually good news -- more on that in a future blog entry), and with the price of gas going through the roof and Nashville being an 8+ hour drive, I had to say 'no' to the trip. Again.
Now, understand, Fred is a big man, a man of Santa Claus-like proportions. But when I got the following email, I was afraid. This was no jolly, no happy, no jovial Santa Claus-type fellow. He was angry Fred. Below, with his permission, is that email he sent (I would never do anything, ever, without his permission. I like angry Fred; he's scary):
I told Alethea to tell you there was no hard feelings
about your canceling last year, and to come back this
Not about the coming back part. About the angry part.
We're all very angry. And hurt. Hurt and angry. And
disappointed. Disappointed, hurt and angry. Mostly
angry. Hurt would probably be a distant second. Ohhh,
we're still so very angry. And mad. Angry and mad. And
disappointed, but that's way back in last place, so
overshadowed by Angry that it's hardly worth
In fact, I cannot fully describe the level of seething
anger we at Hypericon are feeling. It needs to be done
in person. So, when you arrive June 27 (or Thursday
the 26th if you'd like), pick up your badge then come
see me so I can scream at you.
Also, security will be watching you, so watch your
So if you're in Nashville in late June this year,
I would recommend dropping by Hypericon. What I
wouldn't recommend, however, is telling Fred that I
sent you. Might be hazardous to your health.