Secretly Mastering Fandom

So I haven't said anything about this yet, partly because I was tired and lazy, and partly because I wasn't sure whether this was supposed to be an actual secret. But this past weekend, I got to go to SMOFcon in Fort Worth. The SMOFs, of course, are the Secret Masters of Fandom - a grand confederation of shadow-dwelling arch-nerds who have devoted themselves to running the non-profit conventions of the world. SFF literary cons, anime cons, gaming cons, you name it. If it doesn't have the word "Comic" in it, these guys are probably at the helm.

And my god, what ferocious captains of industry they are!

Needless to say, I am a tiny, soft-bellied smofling at best - but after hitting up so many conventions this year, it was a huge treat to get to meet some of the people who mastermind them, and spend a weekend talking shop: who's working on what, how the next WorldCon is shaping up, what's dying or coming back or getting good again. It was a convention planner's conference, so I packed my weekend with panels about hotel relationships and guest policies and scheduling apps, and took copious notes at every one (and I realize that probably sounds boring as hell, but let's just say it's been awhile since I've been this excited about programming.)

And yet there was a tension to it all that I didn't expect - maybe the love-hate culmination of a whole year's worth of con-going. My new friend Linda Deneroff expressed it best, I think, when we were talking about the difference between our community and the big media cons: she said, "we operate on a different economy." As in, ours is a culture of volunteering: we're not in the business of charging for autographs or herding 20,000 people through the turnstiles, and except for whatever premium we pay to get George R. R. Martin on the premises, nobody involved nets a dime.

Part of a tribute to Peggy Rae Sapienza - our fannish bodhisattva.
You won't see this at Comic-Con.

That is an amazing thing. I am just absolutely overjoyed and delighted to belong to a community of giving - to be surrounded by people who donate literally years of their lives to creating something for everyone to enjoy. I love our culture of generosity and camaraderie - how we set out free hot dogs and bowls of cheesy-poofs in the consuite so people can eat without killing their wallets, how you can meet The George in the bar or at a panel or wherever and just hang out, how people will host room parties to advertise their con/event or just for the hell of it, and throw the doors wide open for anyone to come and enjoy. It all makes for this delightful, hugely addictive atmosphere, and I'm just massively in love with it.

This was part of the video archaeology project - restoring footage from years past.
The panel on the screen was from a discussion on feminism at the 1976 WorldCon
- which inspired the creation of WisCon.

But the thing is... it's one thing to donate your time. It's another thing to rely from top to bottom on a comprehensive system of unpaid labor. (And I'm not singling out fan conventions here - writers conferences do it too.) From organizers to boots-on-the-ground henchpeople to guests and presenters - nobody gets paid. Ever. And I mean, I get it: that's what keeps the cost down, so the event stays accessible to everybody - or at least as many people as possible. But here's the kicker: we're kind of failing on the 'everybody' front. Those corporate big-box media cons beat the pants off us here. Comicpalooza and A-Kon and Dallas ComicCon are full of young people, small children - whole families. And they aren't nearly as monochromatic.

Maybe it sounds crass to count census demographics. It's a little hypocritical to criticize a surfeit of squishy white people when you are one. But the town, city, and state I've lived my whole life in are all 40-50% minority, and it never stops feeling weird to go from the huge mix of everyday folks around me to a con, or to workshop, or to a writers conference, and find myself in a venerable white wonderland. It feels like the other half of the world just got quietly filtered out while I wasn't looking - like they just disappeared.

Which is a big reason why the 1956 Hugo Awards...

...still look a whole lot like the 2013 Hugo Awards

More importantly, and more to the point: this is SUCH an awesome community, and I really want it to become as inclusive as it's trying to be (and it IS trying). I want it to be a place by and for all the fans, not just one where they're all theoretically welcome.

I don't blame the SMOFs for that (though I wish there had been some substantial discussion of these things at the con). Honestly - it's a weird, broken world out there, y'all, and not surprising that our social microcosms still reflect that. Race and age and money and the luxury of time - they're all part of the same big ugly muddle that's still tripping up our whole society, and sometimes it's hard to have any hope for improvement. Sometimes you just get so swept up in the joy of seeing the people who ARE there that you don't notice or think about the ones who aren't.

But I tell you what: the power of nerd-love built this house, and I believe it can open the doors even wider. The people I hung out with this past weekend raised this community up from the foundation - from the first tiny Star Trek conventions and fanzines to the massive, million-dollar WorldCons we put on today. They've done phenomenal work in forging this space, and wide-eyed nooblets like me have already benefited enormously from their efforts. If we carry the torch even half as far as they have, we'll have something even more incredible - a worthy legacy for their work, and a community that continues to honor the forward-looking dreams of all the best science fiction.

After all, we're nerds. The future is what we do.

No Longer At Ease

Well, it's not quite official yet: as I type, I'm sitting in seat 22F, watching Tom Cruise get the stuffing knocked out of him by Russian heavies on an 8" screen. But if you're reading this, it's safe to say that after three weeks, eight flights, four time zones, and more wonderful people than I can count, my grandiose gallivanting is finally over, and I'm home again.

I'm really, really glad I got to do that.

I really, really should not have done that.

But let me back up.

I spent the weekend at World Fantasy Con in Saratoga Springs, New York. Getting there was an adventure in itself, but I'm so glad I got to go: WFC is the first "all-pro" convention I've attended, and spending a weekend at what feels like the ends of the earth, stuck in with a few hundred of your peers, is a real experience.

I'm calling it "Still Life in Hilton Bathroom: How To Tell Your Roomie Had a Great Night."

I got to sit in on some TERRIFIC readings – truly, you don't know how badly you need psychic elephant-men, wind-tunnel aerial knife-fights, or grade-school taxidermists until you finally get some – and meet wonderful new people and have tremendous conversations. There were shenanigans and shoe-hunting expeditions and the most lavish ice cream bar I've ever seen.

And this guy. THIS FRICKIN' GUY.

Then on Friday night, a funny thing happened.

There was an "all-call" mass autograph session, which if you ask me, is a really great idea: they just filled up a ballroom with tables and chairs and invited everyone who wanted to (not just the people on programming!) to find a seat and sign their books.

And boy, it was the best kind of bedlam. I had never seen so many people rushing around with armfuls of books – not comics, but actual honest-to-god novels to be signed. It was glorious!

Look at it! Isn't it the most stupendous sight?

It was also kind of a mess: since it was open seating, there was no alphabetical order – no order of any kind. You had to cruise the aisles one at a time, angling to try to get a glimpse of the little printed name-cards – not an easy feat with people clumped up and queuing in front of the tables. After I'd looked and looked and still couldn't find the author I wanted (one of the guests of honor, no less!), I decided to go find a staffer who might be able to direct me.

That's when I realized that I hadn't seen any staffers. No volunteers at all – not one in the entire weekend.

They were there, of course. Handing out packets at the registration desk, flashing five-minute signs at the panels, setting table tents between each of the readings. But they weren't marked at all: no vests or shirts or colored badges. Just the same street-wear (okay, nerd-shirt-wear) as the rest of us. If you weren't actively watching them at work, they were invisible.

And that's when it hit me: what would I do if there were an actual problem? Forget missing out on an autograph – what if I got the bad touch, or watched it happen to someone else? What if there were a fight, or a theft, or a creeper?

Look again: which of these people do you go to for help?

Graceful segue goes here.

One of the readings I went to was Mike Underwood's. Well, tried to go to: I showed up, along with a few other people. Mike never did. That was unusual: we knew he was at the con, and he's not one to flake on a gig.

When I caught up to him later and gave him grief about it, I found out what I would have known days ago, if I'd been paying literally any attention to the digi-sphere: he'd declined his programming as a matter of principle – as a way of protesting WFC's disaster of a harassment non-policy.

And like... I did know about that. I wasn't so completely up myself that I hadn't learned about the controversy. But I'm ashamed to say that it wasn't until that moment in the autograph hall that I actually felt it: that it finally occurred to me that I might not be in a safe place.

I'm not proud of that. I don't like to think of myself as a person whose empathy doesn't extend past her own nose, whose concerns stop at the boundaries of her own experience. I've been doing this convention thing for two years now – more than enough time to catch wise to the serious, pervasive behavior issues that have long festered in our backyard.

Reminders of which were literally spelled out for us this weekend.

And I wonder if it's easier to dismiss those issues when it's "just us". Just us pros, or just us fans, or just us girls, or just us anything. It's easy to drop your guard around people you've known since forever, easy to forget the duty of care we accept when we undertake stewardship and hospitality. Much harder to see your community's potential for causing harm and distress, especially when you yourself have such generous intentions, and have benefited so much from the generosity of others. And downright impossible to know who's missing – who you're missing out on – because you were so caught up in the camaraderie that you neglected to take on any accountability for your guests' well-being.

I'm not sure what the right answer is for those of us on the attending side of the table. There's not a firm consensus, even among the leading lights of our community: John Scalzi has implemented a standing boycott of conventions that fail on this front, while Kameron Hurley has critiqued this approach as unfeasible if not blatantly counterproductive.

Regardless: I know what the ancient Greeks said about hosts who disregarded their sacred duties. I know we can work harder and do better. And with all my '90s-kid heart, I know I wanna be like Mike.

Notes From a Nottingham Laundry

Hello, friends! Tex here, reporting live from a laundrette (=laundromat) somewhere in Nottingham. I'm pleased to report that the spin cycle is proceeding industriously, and that the lone sock dangling from the dryer opposite has been rescued by its owner.

Needless to say, it's been a hell of a week. 24 hours of planes, trains, and my saintly mother-in-law's automobile got me from Dallas to God's Own Country (as my dad calls it), where Dr. Robert Maslen hosted me for a discussion on "The Changing Faces of Fantasy" at the University of Glasgow. And that was... friends, it was entirely too much. More on that next week – if I write it now, it will be nothing but Oscar-clutching tears and snotters.

Right now it's pretty much just wall-eyed vegetative stupor.

But let me tell you about FantasyCon. And maybe extend that to the wonders of British SFF-lit cons generally (as I am operating on about 18% over here, and couldn't rake my fingers through this one with my usual hair-pulling intensity.)

This was my third UK con – after WorldCon in London last year and Eastercon back in April – and while that's not much of a sample size, I'm noticing a pattern. FantasyCon in particular was just astonishingly organized: every panel (that I saw) with exactly five panelists plus a moderator, every moderator prepared with questions, every panelist enthusiastic but mindful in their contributions, keeping up the conviviality without running roughshod over their colleagues. They all took questions from the audience. They all ended on time (thanks in no small part to con staff at the back of the room, flashing "five minutes" and "end now" signs as appropriate). It was like a party in a pocket-watch – and a huge departure from the wild, improvised scrum that seems to be the hallmark of so many American cons. ("Moderator? We don't need no stinkin' moderator!")

Which is not to say it wasn't spontaneous or fun. Around midday on Saturday, the fire alarm went off. Everyone dutifully gathered their things and trooped outside to the parking lot, waiting under the overcast sky with tea and portions of chips still in hand.

It was a social event, of course.

After we were allowed back in, the warm, brassy curls of a Midlands accent came on over the intercom in perfect deadpan:

"Would all FantasyCon members please be advised that the 2:00 barbecue has been cancelled."

We thought it was a pretty good joke :)

And speaking of food, it's an odd thing here. Unless someone is throwing a capital-P (usually) by-invitation-only Party, you don't see free food or drinks anywhere. Sometimes you can't even pay for it (which is more about the venues than the cons – even their sandwiches keep bankers' hours.) It's made me realize just how odd it is to expect to have food available anytime, anywhere.  No wonder the French think we're savages.


But that also means there's no culture of room parties here, at least not any that I can see. It's a huge part of the US con scene: people will spend hundreds or even thousands of dollars to spill-proof and then decorate a hotel suite, setting out a whole smorgasbord of free food and booze, and then advertise to all comers. Sometimes they're small and simple, sure – you can throw a room party with just a bag of Doritos and a cooler of beer – but they're as much a part of our conventions as league sports are to our schools, and Greek life is to our universities – and it probably looks just as frivolous and bizarre to the rest of the world.

And speaking of frivolous and bizarre, can I just say how proud I am that my publisher was the one hosting the karaoke?

So what do you do when you don't have room parties? Why, you follow standard British procedure, of course: you meet at the pub!

And god, what a great idea. Instead of wedging ourselves awkwardly between hotel beds, circulating through a stuffy, overcrowded room to try to reach the snacky-cakes on the nightstand, let's just meet at the bar and buy each other a round. Everyone's there. You can scan the crowd and find your crew and introduce people to each other in a space custom-made for the purpose. Now, if the hotel bars of the world could just be persuaded to serve cupcakes and Cheetos, we would truly be living in a utopian age...!

Well, I'm taking matters into my own hands, and heading off for the post-Soviet paradise that is Bulgaria. Wish me luck, friends:  if I can survive the customs interview, there will be a grand time waiting for me on the other side!

The Great Trans-Atlantic Tour of 2015: Oh-My-God-Whytinerary!

Holy mackerel. HI there! It's been ages. How the dickens are you?

No, wait, don't tell me – I'll just come find you. I mean it. I'm mustering my all for one more grand tour this year, sowing my sunny oats all the from Eastern Europe to Newer York.  So if you live within global-melting distance of the Atlantic Ocean, there is a 30% chance of me being within 30 miles of you at some point in the next three weeks, and I vote we take advantage of it.  Here's what I got!

10/21 - 23 Glasgow, UK

You know, there used to be days when I doubted myself. Then one day, Dr. Robert Maslen invited me to speak to his Masters of Fantasy Literature students at the University of Glasgow, and I forgot how to angst. The big day is tomorrow! So, so looking forward to this – it's going to be such a good time!

10/23 - 25 Nottingham, UK

It's a myth! It's a legend! No, it's FantasyCon, which together with Nine Worlds makes up the crown jewel of the British SFF con scene. This is the nomadic home of the British Science Fiction Award – and this year, the circus has come to Nottingham.  Look me up – schedule is below the cut!


10/26 - 30 Bulgaria!

Yes. Because BULGARIA IS NICE, dammit! Actually, this leg of the trip is less of a professional venture and more of a moral obligation. From their secret underground fortress in the Balkans, 'Evil' Dan Bensen and his fiendish family are plotting world domination and eating cake – and I get to help!


10/31 - 11/3 London
Someday, I will be a big and famous author who does big and famous things in this biggest and most famous of cities. Until then, I roam wild and free: streaking through the tubes, crashing bookstores, and inveigling dinner invitations out of the locals. Watch out, London: I got an Oyster card, a Blackberry, and a penchant for misbehavior!

11/3 - 5 – Philadelphia

Okay, less Philly and more Pennsylvania in general – but I'm sure I can make time to cheez-wiz the liberty bell at some point. So excited to see Ally Bishop in her native habitat!

11/5 -8 – Saratoga Springs, NY

World Fantasy Con, like the world itself, just keeps on turning. This year, it's turned up in upstate New York, which is just fine by me: this is my first time at the convention AND in New York – and in both cases, everyone who's ANYone hangs out there. Watch me infiltrate paradise and ingratiate myself with the beautiful people!

And then, of course, I will go home to sandwich myself firmly between cat and couch, to hibernate as hard as humanly possible until March. Once more unto the airport, dear friends... once more!

FenCon Recap: Beating Back the Brain-Hamster

Okay, so this one's a little bit out of the blue. I didn't post about FenCon last week, because I wasn't even sure I would go. I didn't make it onto programming this year, which isn't the end of the world, but stings when it's one of two conventions in your own hometown (and one that's had you as a guest before.)

Yeah, I know. It's just one con, and it's not like I haven't had my share of airtime this year. I wasn't crying myself to sleep. It's just one of those irrational things that feeds the evil brain-hamster - you know, the one that runs on its squeaky little wheel of insecurities, and every squeak-squeak-squeak is another you suck, you suck, you suck.

Despite vast plastic piles of evidence to the contrary!

Well, that little bastard was only going to get louder if I sat at home, so I went to the con to drown him out. (Hamsters, being solitary, skittish, nocturnal creatures, flee in the presence of other humans. Or at least mine do.)

And man, I am so glad I did. It was so much fun to remember what conventions were like before I turned them into tax-deductible platform-building calculated marketing maneuvers. It was great to just open up the program book and see what I felt like doing - to sit back and enjoy a panel, a reading, a dealers-room stroll - to see my friends again and shoot the breeze.

Then I started to feel guilty, because I'd spent money and writing-time to be there, and I shouldn't just go to amuse myself. A local con is a valuable opportunity, and I should try to make it worthwhile for my team - among others, my agent, my publisher, and good ol' Willie Siros there in the dealers room, who lugged copies of my books all the way from Austin to sell them here. (This is the great thing about having a team, by the way: you can't blow off the people who've invested in you, no matter how fervently the hamster assures you of the foolishness and futility of your efforts.)

Basically this.

So I screwed up my nerve, mustered up my cute, and moseyed into ops to ask ever-so-sweetly if they'd had any last-minute cancellations who needed a wonder-fabulous last-second replacement.

And oh, the delight! Oh, the enthusiasm! Those beautiful people could not have been kinder or more gracious. Robyn and Meredith and Julie loaded me up with a full slate of panels and a fancy-fresh name-card and sent me straight out to play. Can anyone ask for a greater posse than the FenCon crew? I would submit that they cannot!

And somewhere in the middle of all that was an absolutely beautiful wedding up in Olympia, a little overnight sojourn in the Portland airport (planned, that is - so much better than the other kind!), and a rocket-fueled return for the end of the convention.

DID YOU KNOW that small airports are creepy as hell at 2AM? True story!

And now that I'm back home in the stillness and the quiet, the brain-hamster is running that wheel again, trying to tell me that everything I did was haphazard and self-serving and mostly-fruitless, that instead of choosing one thing to do well this weekend (go as a fan, go as a pro, skip the con altogether and go to the wedding), I ended up doing three things badly. If I hadn't asked for programming, I could have gone to my friend Shawn's first-ever reading (among other things!) If I hadn't skipped town on Saturday, I could have probably sold more books, and definitely seen more people. If I hadn't tried to work the con in around the wedding, I could have stayed for the whole nine yards - the rehearsal dinner, the after-party, around-town adventures with the fam the day after.

And if the happy couple hadn't plied us with pies, I wouldn't have had to... well, let's move on.

But when I look at it objectively, I got to enjoy a wonderful lunch with my friend Jeannette, two readings, five panels, a dead-dog drinking session, my first-ever airport sleepover adventure, 250 miles of quality car-time with my mom, and a once-in-a-lifetime barnstormer of a wedding party. Even the hamster has to admit that that's a pretty good haul.

Anyway, but enough about him. Life is good, people are wonderful, and it's time for me to buckle back down and finish this book. Big love to everybody who's folded me in to the fun (and who's been waiting eagerly to do that very thing!): you are heavenly people-grease for a chronically squeaky wheel, and the silence is delightful.


And one day we will die and our ashes will fly
From the aeroplane over the sea
But for now we are young let us lay in the sun
And count every beautiful thing we can see

The WorldCon is Not Enough

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

Well, it's probably a little of both: after a month of couch-surfing, con-crashing, clan-bonding fun in the Pacific Northwest, I'm finally home again. I don't think the cat remembers me, but we'll work on that.

If you look closely, you can see the banana peel on the back of the Prius.
Because we're Thompsons, and this is how we motherfucking roll.

Anyway, so WorldCon.  Look, I don't need to tell you that I had a terrific time. I might as well tell you that I metabolize oxygen. And I don't need to tell you that this year was a hugely political and contentious one for the Hugo Awards (because if you know what I'm talking about, you're already sick of hearing about it, and if you don't, have a Wired article.)

And yes, it is AWESOME that two translated works got the Hugo. Yes, it is GREAT that Helsinki won the bid to host in 2017. And I am absolutely delighted to see women and minorities receive more critical attention for producing truly master-class work. All of these are tremendous achievements, and part of what I hope will be a larger continuing trend.

But I don't think we can act like we just blew up the Death Star.

The thing is, WorldCon itself is still a huge ivory-tower event. It always has been. It has to be. A ~$200 ticket, plus airfare and hotel and meals for the better part of a week practically guarantee that anyone not within driving distance will be dropping at least the better part of a grand on this event.  It's great that you don't need to attend to vote on the awards - but that $40 supporting membership still means that we're only hearing from people who can afford to drop $40 in the ballot box.

With that said, the Gallifreyan contingent may be saving significantly on travel.

As Selina Rosen put it on Facebook (lightly edited by yours truly),

WorldCon is for people with lots of disposable income. It's for the big pros, the big publishers, and the big fans. It's not for people like me. [...] For me, a WorldCon is a huge affirmation that I have failed to make a name for myself in the business, and it has cost me more than I will ever make back. Most of the debt I have left to pay is because of the many WorldCons I attended. 

So I get it that you're all having a good time and that so many of you wish you could be there. I'd rather stay here and stick twigs under my fingernails, thank you very much.

And y'know, she's not wrong. The only reason I got to do this is because I signed with a publisher who could afford to pay me a good advance, and because I have a lifestyle that allows me to stuff that advance in a big sock and spend it all on traveling and self-promotion. I've truly enjoyed getting to be a part of this club, but I'm acutely aware that there are many, many people who are getting caught behind the velvet ropes, and I'm one bad die-roll away from being one of them.

And to be clear: this isn't strictly a WorldCon issue. Movement takes energy, which costs money. Space costs money. Time costs money.

To be fair, the wildfire smoke and eerie Kryptonian sun were complimentary.

So at the end of the day, any event that requires in-person travel is going to exclude a whole lot of people. Thus it has ever been. If we have a reason to feel better about this now than in decades past, it's because the Internet is helping us broaden the conversation to include the people who can't be physically present - and that is a great thing.

But speaking as someone who got to watch the Hugos at WorldCon and simultaneously follow the online feeds, it feels to me like what we have is two different conversations - maybe even two different communities.

From everything I saw, the mood at the event was overwhelmingly joyous. The people in my posse were ECSTATIC that Laura Mixon won. We were DELIGHTED for Wes Chu, and Wendy Wagner, and Julie Dillon - because for most of us, those people are our colleagues and friends.

By contrast, most of what I saw online was about who lost. The Puppies lost. Bigotry lost. Slate voting and awards-gaming and the Evil Empire lost. The virtual conversation seems to be much more about promoting ideas than individuals - and if we are talking about an individual, it's usually to rip them apart.

And of course, this is hardly an objective analysis. Everything I see and hear only amounts to a single anecdotal data point.  But I worry that the convention-going subset of our community is diverging significantly from the rest. It bothers me that the online medium seems to reward hyperbole, stifle nuance, and feed anger. And I hate that the forum where we get to see each other face-to-face, where we're naturally prompted to treat each other as real human beings, is also the smallest and least accessible.

I talk a lot about 'getting on the wagon', but a con lets you
and Team Novelocity literally GET ON THE WAGON.
This is fantastic! I want this for everyone!

I don't know how to fix that. I do know that I want to keep supporting causes like Con or Bust!, that work to bring fans to conventions, and throw more weight behind traveling circuses like WorldCon, WesterCon, and NASFiC, that serve to bring conventions to the fans. And I want to work on my digital game, because I know I'm missing out on a ton of cool people that I won't get to meet in meatspace.

I also know that it's my bedtime in at least two time zones, so I'll close here. All navel-gazing aside: thanks for a grand time, world-conveners. Until our next great conjunction...!


Be excellent to each other.

SASQUAN COMETH: WorldCon Demi-Schedule!

Yep - it's almost here. Geekdom del Grande. The Big Enchilada. The Conferminator.

As you might know, WorldCon is the biggest literary (notice I say literary!) sci-fi and fantasy convention out there - frequently north of 6,000 people. The Hugo Awards are given there. It moves from year to year, like a barbarian king feasting on the seasonal largesse of his thanes - this year is Spokane, last year was London, the year before that was San Antonio, and before that I was a zygote floating in an oblivious creative placenta.

1956 WorldCon in New York, with Arthur C. Clarke and Isaac Asimov.
I missed ALL the good stuff.

And though I still harbor fervent fetal dreams of one day making it onto WorldCon programming, the reality is that I am still a pretty small fish, and in my world, that is the biggest pond there is. So I didn't officially make it onto the schedule.

But I've done a fair bit of convening, and I'm getting pretty good at working my way into the party anyhow, like an ambitious piglet angling for the tit.  So my dance card is filling up fast - and if you're going to be there, I'd love to join you for a reel!

((Weds, 9-11PM - Writers Workshop reception))

Thurs, 12-2PM - SFWA autographs & tabling - Riverside Exhibition Hall A, E16 & E17
I'll be signing autographs from 12 to 1 and then manning the table from 1 to 2 - come find me!

Thurs 7-11PM - Drinks With Authors - Black Label Brewing Co., Saranac Commons
The fabulous folks at r/Fantasy are at it again! Come rub elbows with a veritable smorgasbord of fantastic folks - there's food to be eaten, drinks to be drunk, and books to be won!

This con is gonna roc!

((Fri 9 AM - Codex breakfast))

((Fri 10 to 1 - Writers Workshop section 13))

((Fri 7 PM - redacted))

((Sat, 8AM - redacted))

((Sat, 9-11AM - SFWA consuite))

((Sat 5PM - Codex dinner))

((Sun, 10-1PM - Writers Workshop section 19))

((Double parentheses are for membership-limited events - I put them here to help me keep my own schedule straight, and to advertise in case you-the-reader are also part of the club!))

But taking this particular con aside for a second: if you interested in being part of this kind of social scene, let me just reiterate again what huge, huge value there is in volunteering, in joining organizations, in putting your ear to the ground and your hand in the air almost every chance you get.  Some of the above groups did require book-publishing bona-fides in order to get me past the velvet rope, but you would be amazed how much work goes into putting on a capital-E Event like this - and how many great connections you can make just by pitching in a little.

Anyway, I'll be largely off the grid until next week, and if all goes according to plan, I will be exhausted, euphoric, and hopelessly monosyllabic by the time I make it back to Texas. Plan on it!

Galacticon Recap: Parts and Pieces

Well y'all, it's Sunday evening and I'm freshly arrived in Portland, silently bearing witness to Auntie M's wonderful hospitality, not to mention her incomparable car-packing skills.

Yes, that is a black-mesh banana containment field. Your argument is invalid.

This is fresh on the heels of Galacticon, which was – well, a first for me in several ways. 

Back in June, I was hugely surprised and delighted when the programming director took me on board, even though I was applying less than six weeks out – and then took all three of my panel suggestions!  "Hot damn!" I thought. "This is going to be a great time!"

And it was!  Just not in the way I'd originally planned.

See, it took a bit of doing to get there (an hour and a half of busing, another hour of me wandering around the Seattle Center like a clueless rube because I was too dumb to check my email and actually look up where registration was).  That was kind of sweaty.  And I was a little nervous to realize (way, way too late to do anything about it) that media cons don't work like literary cons – you have to bring your own panelists. Which meant that I was going to be by myself for mine.  But finally I made it to the panel room... and nobody was there.

I may have had a diva moment.

But I stuck around, and eventually a couple of folks wandered in, and then a couple more, and they all had the same question: "what's this panel about?"

That was when I realized that all the schedule said was "What Does God Need With a Starship?" And that there were no panel descriptions in the program.  And that they weren't on the website either. So people had literally no way of knowing what this one was about. (I'm so lucky they were curious enough to come find out!)  Not only did I not have a bio or photo anywhere, my name wasn't even under the panel title on the schedule, so nobody who enjoyed one of my events would have had any way of knowing that I was also running two others. (And, as I found out the next day, the printed schedule didn't match the online/emailed schedule, so I showed up for an 11:00 panel that had theoretically started at 10:30. Ouch.)

Later that night, I checked the Twitter tag and found out that Galacticon was having major, major issues.  I can believe it: I was there all three days, and didn't see a single panel in my corner of the world with more than ten attendees. (Word on the street was that the mainstage activities and events were super fun and well-attended; I just didn't get to stay for them because of the commute.)

But you know what, y'all?  It was a really, really good time.  I had five to eight people at each of my three panels, which meant that it was the easiest thing in the world to deputize them as co-panelists, pull the chairs into a circle, and have us a good hearty gab. It was genuinely fun and wonderful and relaxing, that was what – easy and stress-free in a way that sitting up at a head table in front of a room full (or half-full) of people can't be.  It worked out great when this happened at CONvergence, too – there were sixty people in the room instead of six, but the spirit of the thing was the same.  It felt like the invisible wall between the audience and the panelists disappeared, and we were genuinely part of a single shared conversation.

From left to right – Nicholas, Joel, Jessica, Catherine (whose name I am almost certainly misspelling) and Emily. I am so happy to get to say I know them!

You know, there's a trend in education right now, which trains teachers to think of themselves not as the 'sage on the stage', but as the 'guide on the side'.  And the more I see that in action, the more I love it. Some of the most rave reviews we got at DFWcon this year came not from the classes, but from the workshops – where people bring in their work and their questions and get help with both.  Some of the most fun I've had at conventions has been at kaffeeklatsches and 'literary beers', where you pull a drink and a seat and get to have a ten-person totally unscripted chat with the author of your choice.  I know that's not always feasible or appropriate, but I also know I want more of it.

And as for the con itself... you know, I don't know nearly enough about the whys and wherefores to venture any opinion about it, except to say this: anybody who invests their time in a convention wants it to be a success. It is a hard, grueling, invisible and thankless job, often sucking up hundreds or even thousands of hours for the higher-ups, and I'm amazed that it works as well as it does as often as it does.  I know that Galacticon didn't turn out like its organizers intended – but everyone I interacted with, from the first email to the programming director to the last wave to the janitor, was pleasant, professional, and working their hardest to make this event a good time for everyone.

Well, I didn't have a good time. I had a GREAT time, and I couldn't be more impressed or grateful for their efforts.  At the end of the day, you can break fandom into as many parts and pieces as you want - staff vs. attendees, panelists vs. audience, fanficcers vs. cosplayers, whatever. But we are fundamentally one community, and the more I see that community come together, the prouder I am to be a part of it.  Thanks for a wonderful weekend, Washington - I'll see you again for Worldcon in two weeks!

So say we all!

Galacticon Schedule!

Hello again, happy people!  This one's going to be short, because I am currently having a near-life experience in my ancestral fortress of fun.  (GOD, it's amazing. There's cookies and writing time and pleasant morning runs by the ocean. I have never loved a guest bedroom so hard in my life.)

But I will emerge this weekend for Galacticon, so if you're going to be anywhere in the vicinity of the Seattle Center, please come find me, starting... today!  Here's my agenda:

What Does God Need With a Starship?
Friday, 5:00-6:00PM - Armory 2
From the Christ-like figure of Superman to the frequently metaphysical adventures of the USS Enterprise, fantasy and science fiction have long provided a fertile ground for considering religious and philosophical questions in a new light. What is it about spaceships and superheroes that touches our spirituality, and how can a passion for one inspire the other?




No Aliens Needed: Human-Centered Sci-Fi and Fantasy 
Saturday, 11:00AM-12:00PM - Armory 3
From Firefly and the new Battlestar Galactica to the conspicuously elf-less Game of Thrones series, aliens and strange creatures seem to be taking a turn on the bench. What's behind this interest in 'humanistic' speculative fiction, and what does it mean for the future of the genre?
 
Play It Again, Sam: Rewatching, Rereading, and Replaying the Greats
Sunday, 12:00-1:00PM - Armory 3
Some stories are like a drive-through dinner: cheap, easy, and ultimately disposable.  But more often than not, our all-time favorites reward – or even require – revisiting multiple times in order to get the most out of them. What is it about a great story that urges us to return to it over and over again – and what's the secret to crafting a story that your audience will keep coming back to?

That's it!  That's all I got - see you there!


On your feet, nuggets!

Prose, Panties, and DFWcon Schedule!

Hey, Internetizens - this one's going to be quick and dirty, because I'm sitting in a departure lounge awaiting a midnight flight back to DFW, and absolutely will not have a brain left to post with by the time I get home.

But post I must, because the DFW Writers Conference cometh - and I am SO STOKED to go!

I'll spare you the whole schpiel, but if you're just now tuning in, DFWcon is where I met my agent, lo these many moons ago (not to mention my whole writers workshop), and where my home and heart will always be.  This year, I can only be there for Saturday, but the organizers have very-kindly obliged my request to take it to the limit all day long.  Look at this line-up!  LOOK AT IT.

Secrets of Success
9:45 to 10:45AM, Saturday
Session 1: Kevin J. Anderson, Rosemary Clement Moore, Charlaine Harris, Jenny Martin, Julie Murphy, Me Ra Koh, Tex Thompson

What’s their secret? How did these traditionally published authors achieve their objectives, cross that threshold and get their writing career started? And what have they done since to build on that success? The authors will share their experiences and helpful tips and field questions from the audience.

Prose P90X
1:00-2:00PM, Saturday
Laura Maisano, Anaiah Press
with Tex Thompson
NOTE: this class was previously listed as 'Intro to Style'
Do your sentences sag? Does your description drag? Or is your manuscript simply struggling to lose those last 5,000 words? Never fear! Veteran editor Laura Maisano and relentless red-pen-thusiast Tex Thompson are teaming up to help you trim and tone your prose in a fearless, fun session that’s guaranteed to leave your work leaner, cleaner, and meaner than ever before. Come learn how to take your writing style from flab to fab!

The Comma Sutra : A Better-Punctuation Guide to Spicing Up Your Text Life
2:15-3:30PM, Saturday
Tex Thompson

Does your writing lack a certain… variety?  Does your manuscript suffer from premature exclamations, heavy or abnormally frequent periods, or have difficulty maintaining even a semi-colon?   Don’t suffer in silence!   You too can enjoy the satisfaction and self-confidence that comes with knowing how to please your critique partner.   In this class, we’ll practice the ins and outs of good punctuation (and yes, it WILL be raunchy.)  Join us, won’t you, as we embark on a journey of true textual healing.

Read and Critique, DFW Writers Workshop Style - pre-registration required
4:15-5:45PM, Saturday
Tex Thompson, David Goodner

One great way to hone your craft is to read your work in front of a critique group. The DFW Writers Workshop has been doing just that since 1977, and has perfected its system over the years. Bring your current work in progress, read it in front of a group and receive critique from published authors.


Seriously, guys.  I know over-the-top excitement is kind of my jam, but I am unbelievably stoked to get to collaborate on a presentation with bitextual author/editor wonder-wizard Laura Maisano, and get to co-workshop with future bigger-than-Jesus picture-book rock-star David Goodner, and get to exchange oxygen within breathing-distance of Charlaine Harris AND Kevin J Anderson.  Binaca, don't fail me now!

So if you're going - set your schedule!  If you're not going - console yourself as best you can! And if you're on the fence - boy, you better hustle up and get yourself a ticket tout-de-suite, cuz we've only got a few left, and this year's conference is going to be off ALL of the chains.  See you there!

Five Reasons CONvergence is Better Than You

No, really. I mean, I like you and all, but this con, you guys. This freaking con.

And I know secondhand conventions are about as much fun as listening to somebody tell you about their D&D character, but hey – I've been aggressively vivacious and charming for WEEKS now, and today it's my turn to have poor social skills.  *pops zit* *whips out crappy smartphone pics* So as I was saying, my level 16 half-orc ranger-druid...

1.    Killer Costumes 

Okay, it's a sci-fi/fantasy convention. Of course there's going to be costumes.  But almost more amazing than the sheer NUMBER of people in costume (easily half the 7,000+ attendees) is the quality and variety of their work. 

And it IS work.  I don't even want to think about how long it took to bring La Muerte to life.

Seriously, it's so much more than just steampunk matrons and trending anime characters.  There are brand-new Mad Max characters and others from shows that haven't aired in twenty years (when's the last time you thought about Doug, let alone Quail-Man?  And remember that time Jewel Staite was a 15-year-old in a rainbow wig and I loved her?)

Me taking a picture of Raichu taking a picture of Journey travelers. It's deep.

There were a terrific number of original characters and costumes, too – I so, so wish I'd thought to take a picture of the lady who'd dressed up as a YA dystopian love triangle!  But I was busy being amazed that she'd turned up for my 11:30PM Shapeshifters panel, which brings me to my next point...

2.    Awesome Attendees

Seriously.  Seriously, seriously.  It doesn't matter what rotten time slot you're talking about – people will turn up. The 2:00 Thursday panel on Shakespeare?  40 people.  The Sunday afternoon writing panel?  50 people.  The 10 PM Saturday night conlang panel, on the Fourth of Goddamn July?  FREAKING FULL... of people who actually wanted to talk about constructed languages!

Look at all these people. LOOK AT THEM.

Shoot, I thought that Shapeshifters panel was going to be a bust – it started at 11:30PM, and my co-panelist didn't turn up, so it was just me and 35 eager geeks, and I was honestly worried about how to keep things on track if someone was drunk or just over-talkative/domineering.  But we had an absolutely *delightful* roundtable discussion – I just asked the attendees some of the questions I'd thought up for the panel, and they educated me and each other as cheerful and respectfully as you could imagine.  It was so much less stressful than subtly wrestling with five other people to try to get a word in edgewise, all while audience members weakly raise their hands in despairing near-futility.  I wish we could do moderated group discussions at every con – I think I can say that it was genuinely fun for everyone, and such a surprising change of pace.

Anyway, so there are a ton of real people who really want to talk about real panel topics – but the whole con has a wonderful atmosphere.

Exhibit A:  a poorly-photographed shot of a guy making a Golden Snitch swoop and fly on the end of a fishing pole, ready to toss candy down to any kid who can catch it (and I believe that one in the blue shirt actually did).  Who does this? Convergence people, that's who! 

And to be honest, I expect that has a lot to do with the con-culture that these folks have cultivated over the past decade-plus.  Which brings us to the next point...

3.    Style for Miles

I don't actually know whether this is true, but I strongly suspect that Convergence is one of the largest fan-run conventions in the country – and it shows.  You have much bigger cons, like DragonCon and San Diego Comic Con, but these 'media cons' are run by for-profit companies – and while there's nothing wrong with that, it does make for a different feel.  Busloads of big-name actors being carted in to sign autographs and take pictures all weekend, so that you have the pleasure of paying for parking, paying for entry, paying for the privilege of standing in line for three hours to get personalized scrawl from a glassy-eyed Patrick Stewart... it's not bad, but it's not what fan-cons are generally there to do. 

You may be asking yourself "well, what ARE fan-cons there to do?"  The answer, of course, is "hold PVC-foam jousting matches for papier-mache Jabba's entertainment."

I love, love, love how easy it is to buy a ticket to Convergence and then not open your wallet again for the entire weekend.  Parking is free. Autographs are free.  Food is free – oh, god, they have an entire food court's worth of goodies available all weekend – everything from the traditional pizza and sodas to milk, fruit, rice, soup, and fresh veggies.

Look at that. It's not a con-suite. It's an entire con-boulevard!

They even have a hotel TV station running and overflow rooms set up so that the people who can't fit in the main ballroom can still watch and enjoy the biggest events.  And everywhere – everywhere! – are flyers, posters, and fun con-propaganda:

Look at this. This poster serves no functional purpose.  It's not advertising anything.  It's not directing or informing you. But this year's theme was dystopia, and by gum, we are going to act like it!

And this! It's not enough that they're doing a free four-day smorgasbord - they have to design and color-print advertisements to remind you of it!

End result: you aren't a paying customer spending a weekend at the Hilton Doubletree – you're at Convergence, and you're part of the crew.

4.    Organization

This part really blows my mind.  An event of this size takes MASSIVE organization – and it's all volunteers.  I volunteered with the programming department again this year – setting up table tents, resetting rooms, picking up trash and taking census at the panels – and I am just, like, amazed at the size and scope of the organization here.

The organization, plus the branding - Connie is EVERYwhere.

Programming does the panel-type events.  Mainstage handles the big shows.  Nerfherders organize lines and man the elevators to keep the crowds moving along.  Hospitality keeps the food and drink flowing, Wandering Hosts roam the halls to help out wherever they're needed, Registration, First Aid, and the Volunteer Desk are exactly what their names imply, and the Bridge crew keeps every other department coordinated and communicating with the hotel staff.  It's an incredible system, and astonishingly efficient – and everyone who gives up their time to contribute does it for love of the convention. (Well, and for the free massages in the volunteer den, too.)  It's everything I love best about fan-cons, operating on a massive scale.

5.    Inclusiveness

Another astonishingly bad photo from yours truly, of the sign for the Sensory-Friendly Space Lab. Wish I'd gotten a shot of the interior - it's dim and cool and quiet, with glowy blue lights and alien decor.  Gorgeous room with a brilliant concept!

This one maybe wins me over more than anything.  Like... it's one thing to put a non-harassment policy in your program.  It's another to have sign language interpreters and typists/transcribers ready on request, taped-off squares on the floor of every room for wheelchair and scooter users, consistently-posted reminders about what is and isn't appropriate behavior, and labeled "safe spaces" and the aforementioned Wandering Hosts to make sure that anyone in trouble can find help immediately.

This con is assiduously, consistently welcoming to all kinds of people, and it shows in the diversity of its attendees.  In my experience, it's incredibly rare for the people inside a convention to actually represent a fair cross-section of the community it's held in – and while I'm not an expert on Minneapolis demographics, I daresay Convergence comes closer than any other con I've been to.

That's what I love most, I think.  That's what I want to see elsewhere - everywhere!  Yes, not every con can or should be this big - but they absolutely can and should be this inclusive, this accessible, this welcoming.

Where is the 1 AM card game?  Right in the middle of the concourse, of course - come on down!

And as for me personally - I blogged last year about how happy I was to have gone, but felt a little crowded, a little lonely.  This year, I was so thrilled to see the seeds I planted in 2014 springing up - to walk in the main doors and be accosted ten seconds later by people who recognized me from last year and wanted to fold me in to the group.  I'm going to try to remember this for future events: it's hard sometimes to play the away games, to leave your home turf and go mix with people who don't know you from Adam, who already have their old buddies and big networks ready to hand.  But if you're brave and persistent and keep giving yourself mingling-missions (volunteer six hours, compliment three people on their costumes, go to two room parties and stay ten minutes at each, chat with one person each time you go to the consuite), it's amazing how quickly today's acquaintances can become tomorrow's legendary lifemates.

Barf and I are not technically LLs - he is his own best friend! - but trust me, I have others.

Anyway, I could write 5,000 words more - I haven't even touched on all the extracurricular adventures from this weekend, or mentioned any of those aforementioned lifemates - but this is long and time is short and it's almost time to finish the mighty drive through scenic Oregon.  Big sloppy post con-noital love to everyone - now go get your tickets, people: only 357 days until Convergence 2016!

SoonerCon Recap and CONvergence Schedule

Where am I?  What day is it?  Is it time to have more convention now?

Well, I'm here at the airport watching the sun rise through the departure gate window, so I reckon it must be!

So this marks the end of the road-trip portion of my Summer of Shenanigans, and the beginning of the jet-setting phase.  Last weekend I drove up to SoonerCon in Oklahoma City - and let me tell you, it is a hell of a production.

It's a real family-oriented con, for one thing -

You know what they say: the family that crushes the Rebellion together, stays together.

- and they let a horde of us authors absolutely tear up the ballroom for a mass koffeeklatch -

THEY EVEN SERVED COFFEE. And pastries! And fruit!
I'm pretty sure that has literally never happened before.

- which Mark Finn further enlivened by holding court with a box of moon-donuts, like a regal barbarian king distributing sweet yeasty plunder to his thanes -

Basically, my new life-goal is to become a Mark Finn sommelier.
"Elegant, yet unpretentious. Honest, yet gracious. Erudite, yet perfectly
comfortable bringing up 'the meat-sweats' in casual conversation."

- but for me, the real highlight was getting to stay with Jeannette Cheney for the duration.  For one thing, it's a real treat to stay in high nerdy style -

For the record, that's a framed copy of Tolkien's "The Road" poem,
a Dalek pillow, and a dog hair roller. I defy you to find this splendor at any hotel.

- and you absolutely can't beat the company -

These are my newest and most favorite host-dogs, Penny and Al!

- and honestly, the longer I do this, the less willing I am to pay for a hotel room, 80% of which I don't use.  For real. I don't need a coffee maker or a hair dryer or a TV. I don't need my bed made or towels changed. I don't even need reconstituted apple juice and stale freezer-pastries in the morning. I need a small, clean space with a bed, good wi-fi, and air conditioning. That's it. If somebody can figure out how to sell me that, I am unbelievably ready to buy it... on the unfortunate occasion I don't have a legendary life-mate with a guest room, of course.  (Thank you, J!)

Okay, rant over. But seriously: you know, there are times when nobody comes to your reading, when you and your fellow panelists outnumber the audience two-to-one, when you can't help but wonder whether any of this even matters.  But this friend-network of mine is growing and deepening month by month, year over year, and it is unbelievably life-sustaining. So much of this whole low-rent show-business thing we do is random and unpredictable, and it is absolutely vital to hang on to the one thing you can directly, reliably influence - which is to say, the people you meet and how you treat them.

And now, my friends, it is nearly time to go find some of my most favorite folks!  CONvergence is about to converge, and I could not be more jazzed.  My actual official events listing is a short one this time around: