Neil Gaiman's Journal

Lots of messages from friends telling me I've been sighted at the Worldcon in San Jose over the last couple of days, which is a bit odd when you think about it, as I wasn't there over the last couple of days. Still, I am now. My chest is not yet back to normal, so I alternately cough and sound like Barry White. Well, an English sort of Barry White. A white English Barry White. Okay, I don't sound anything like Barry White at all, but I do have a sort of chesty sort of voice. Except when I cough.

San Jose is beautiful.

As the driver drove me into the centre of San Jose, and seeing the teeming throngs of people in badges crossing the street in front of us, he exclaimed, "Jesus. Who ARE these people?"

"Well," I said, "That's Patrick Neilsen Hayden. That looks a lot like Tom Schaad. That's Jon Singer."

"You're kidding."

"No," I said.

...

Finished the handwritten draft of the story for Michael Chabon-edited issue of McSweeneys today. Have to type it out now. It didn't work as a ghost story until I gave it a framing story, in a seedy London club, at which point it came to life, and became an odd sort of companion piece to the story I wrote for Peter Straub last month.