Twin Cities Con 2025

November 9th, 2025

Wow. I know I go on and on about how much I adore this community, but it’s only because this community has so much to adore.

What a surprising and delightful, thrilling and exhausting weekend. My eyes, mind and nervous system are shut down for repairs as I type this letter to you.

I chose Twin Cities Con to debut Maple Island because I knew you would welcome it like nobody else. Thank you for your trust and acceptance and horny enthusiasm.

I joke, but it’s true. I did not know how this would go over and I was nervous. But people kept picking it up and bringing it home and then I did a live reading from the book on Saturday night during the Writing After Dark panel; the response was unbelievably kind and generous.

This morning, one of my first visits was from an attendee of that same panel; he said that this type of book generally wasn’t his thing, but that the writing was so good. He ended up taking video on his phone during the reading and sending it to his friends. That is just the coolest kind of thing a creative person can hear and the kind of stamp that Maple Island kept getting this week. I know that there will be people who hate it for whatever reason, but having the initial reactions glow like this is da bomb (and if you’ve read Chapter 11, you get that reference and you’re welcome).

There were too many magical moments to count, or recount. I met Amy Jo Johnson, the pink Power Ranger; I have now met all the OG Rangers (with the exception of Thuy Trang, who played the yellow Ranger and passed tragically young). I connected with so many new fans and friends and writers and artists, and reconnected with the longtime ones too.

Conventions, for me, have always been a reliable bellwether and microcosm of the world we live in. If that’s still true, then I noticed two things:

1. Most people are extremely anxious about living in this country in its current state and are increasingly worried about its descending trajectory.

2. People really care about each other, especially in times like these, and local communities like this are the most important thing to them. For some, their families live within and depend on these vibrant communities; for others, these vibrant communities are their families.

I was eloquently summarizing it all weekend to anyone who would listen: the world is weird right now. All of this is weird. But talking about the weirdness is how we understand and get through it.

I had a lot of people bring up my post from last week. The one where I talked about the unbearable stress. And I had so many insightful conversations about it. People who related. People who wanted to support me and my family in any way they could. People who wondered why I would even write something like that.

Those last people have clearly never been here before.

I want to share part of a conversation I had with my friend Paul (and I don’t think he’ll mind because it’s a good reminder). He’s the Chewbacca you’ve met if you’ve ever met Chewbacca. I brought up how uncomfortable it must be in that Wookiee suit, and he dismissed that part as unimportant. The reason he does what he does is to bring joy to a child. Because that is what this is all about.

He shared a story about meeting a boy in a hospital. The kid had a blast meeting all these characters from a galaxy far, far away. And as the boy was rolled away in his bed, his father told Paul that it had been the first time he smiled in weeks.

I got emotional as he told me this story, as I deal with my own stuff, because who among us hasn’t had this conversation? In our friend’s kitchen after dinner or on the back porch on a warm summer night?

The idea that all we’re supposed to be is kind. The idea that all we’re supposed to do is protect our children and let them be happy. The idea that we’re all connected and most of this — the pain, the politics, the division, the cruelty — is bullshit that doesn’t actually mean anything.

We have these conversations every day and then go out and ruin the world anyway.

Anyway. All of this to say that I’m grateful. For this community, my friends and family, and for conventions like this that let us all get together. These reminders of kindness and joy and connection. A special thanks to the people who put Twin Cities Con together and make it run year after year for five of them now; this event is my favorite and is basically an official holiday to me. My pals Rio and Caitlyn made me a Five Timers jacket (that I have to pass on to someone else who has five years next year, per stated tradition) and that gift (and sentiment) really symbolized everything you all mean to me.

Love you. And if you haven’t bought my slutty vampire book yet, shame on you.