On World Fantasy Convention 2014
World Fantasy Con is over. I’m home. I’m alive. I’m back to the life of a grad student and adjunct faculty, with a side of writing. And these are my mystical thoughts on the whole experience: I began my journey in the fashion of a handrail used by a string of infected boat passengers. On Tuesday, I started feeling a cold coming on, and I frantically chowed down Vitamin C and everything else I could find to stifle the monster growing within me. Alas, the cold was up to the task and settled in by Wednesday morning, leaving me so wiped by Thursday that I had to cancel class in order to get a lot of rest before the 2-hour drive to Jacksonville and the 2-hour flight to Arlington. My flight was delayed by almost 3 hours, leaving me in an uncomfortable airport with death dribbling from my nostrils. The flight itself was terrible for the simple reason that sinus pressure + plane cabin pressure = a terrible combination. By the time I got to Arlington, I was completely wiped. Thankfully, I started feeling better by Friday, though spent most of that day (the 1st day of my WFC experience) napping. I also, thankfully, had the venerable Max Gladstone as a roommate — something which I would repeat again if we were ever at a con together and wanted to save money. He’s a pretty awesome guy, so getting to have morning chats with him certainly got my days off to a good start. Also: the rooms at the Marriot were basically studio apartments, which were surprisingly cheap. It certainly made rooming a much more comfortable experience. Despite beginning the convention as a plagued, sniffling monster, I thoroughly enjoyed WFC. I must admit that I missed all of the panels, which I blame on being sick and on taking the opportunity to check out D.C. (for the first time) with Arley Sorg and James Bradley (a good reason, after all). I was told before I even signed up for WFC that this particular con was more social than con-y. That’s certainly what I took away from the experience. There was so much chatting, hanging out, networking, and social silliness going on at WFC that I can completely understand the exhaustion many felt by Sunday afternoon (my exhaustion came in a different form, as I usually find myself very much becoming a little social butterfly at these things — a new thing for me, as I’ve only recently become a “con-goer”; being sick takes a bit of that away). On Friday, I joined Alyc Helms’ posse of dramatic readers, in which I played Ms. Wu, a Chinese tea lady who is secretly a hungry demon. Laughs were had, not just because of me (duh); the chapter from her upcoming novel, The Dragons of Heaven, was quite hilarious, and the various other cast members, including former Angry Robot editor Lee Harris, put on a good show. It was easily one of the most exciting readings I’d been to, and it gave me some great ideas for ways to conduct readings in the future. On Saturday, I read from my short story entitled “Sublight Smiles.” A handful of people were in attendance, which was lovely. My Nook decided to crash two paragraphs from the end, which is a reminder that one should not rely on technology for such things. Overall, I think the reading went well; it was my first real reading, and I suspect it won’t be my last. On Sunday, I somehow managed to snag a ticket to the banquet partially on the basis of looking rather sharp and spiffy in a sweater vest and tie. I hadn’t planned to attend the banquet for financial reasons ($65 = gah), but I’m thankful I did because I got to sit at a table with Scott Edelman and Jamie Todd Rubin. Jamie and I had a great conversation about writing over our meals (I had a delicious salmon for the main course, and an even more delicious chocolate tart for dessert — omg, the tart…OMG!). The Awards ceremony was pleasantly short. Mary Robinette Kowal told one of the most hilarious marionette stories I have ever heard. It involved costume malfunctions and penis swords, but I won’t tell you the story because there’s no way to do it any justice. Just ask Mary. The winners were a pleasant surprise, too. Sofia Samatar received the Best Novel award, which made me happy on so many levels. A Stranger in Olondria is an exceptional book, so it’s nice to see it getting recognition. Neil Clarke, Kate Baker, and Sean Wallace pulled in a Lovecraft bust for Clarkesworld, Andy Duncan & Ellen Klages won for Best Novella, and so on and so forth. A lovely evening was had by all. Well, maybe not all. Sofia took the opportunity to mention the controversy surrounding Lovecraft’s bust. Her acceptance speech could be summed up as “I am thankful for the recognition, but as a woman of color, I feel awkward accepting an award with this man’s head on it.” She, of course, has a point, so I’m glad the con organizers saw fit to announce that they are thinking about what to do with the award bust. My hope is that they’ll shift it to something more inclusive; I don’t see a point in using a person’s head for an award in a genre includes so many people from so many places — no matter their importance. That basically concludes what I was up to at the convention in a sort of official capacity. The real highlight of the convention, though, was meeting old friends and making new ones. I met up with fellow podcasters Mike Underwood and Stina Leicht, enjoyed catching up with Arley Sorg, Michael Martinez, Natalie Luhrs, Amy Sundberg, Fran Wilde, Myke Cole, and Carrie Patel. I met all sorts of people, too: Chadwick Ginther, Crystal Huff, Scott H. Andrews, Nina Niskanen, Melanie R. Meadors, Marco Palmieri,
5 Don’ts of Panels (and Podcast Roundtables)
I’m officially back from Worldcon/LonCon3, which marks my third convention this year (preceded by ICFA and CONvergence). Having had a few experiences as a panelist, I’ve learned a few things about what works and what doesn’t. The below list is not exhaustive by any means, but it reflects my fairly new experiences as an panelist and audience member. Here goes: Do NOT assume something personal about a panelistIn particular, do NOT assume you share experiences with a panelist because you share some physical or personal feature. Two religious people may have had entirely different journeys. Two gay men or lesbian women (or bisexuals) may have had entirely different lives. Two people of the same race or gender? The same. The problem with making these assumptions isn’t that they are inherently “bad” in any kind of moral sense; rather, the problem is that some of these assumptions can actually make panelists extremely uncomfortable. In some cases, a panelist might be so uncomfortable talking about personal experiences of race or gender or whatever that asking them point blank will reveal that discomfort to the audience. I would hope it’s obvious why this is not a good thing. Many of the topics we now discuss in the sf/f community are not unlike handling prickly pears, and so it’s incumbent upon each of us to recognize that everyone has a different level of comfort with those topics. On a related note: don’t assume vaguely topical jokes about a panelist based on some defining feature of their physical person (race, gender, dress, etc.) will be received as jokes. I think many jokes are harmless, but you really should know what an individual is comfortable with before making jokes about their appearance. None of this is universal. I just think the best practice in cases of potentially controversial topics is to ask your panelists whether there is anything they really don’t want to discuss. And then you drop those undesirable topics entirely. Moderators Should ModerateYour ONLY job is to keep the panelists discussing the topic. This isn’t an easy thing to do, as I’ve learned from moderating a handful of panels. It takes some degree of skill to keep a conversation evolving organically. The biggest no-no of moderating, however, is in assuming you are a panelist, too. You’re not. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t respond to questions if you can bring something to the table that your panelists have not; it only means that you should be more interested in keeping the conversation going than in making sure your voice is heard. The worst moderators are the ones who seem to think this is as much their show as everyone else’s. And the worst of the worst moderators are those that have to be moderated by the panelists. I’ve seen this happen. It is not pretty. Ask Questions; Don’t BabbleTaking into account that exceptions might exist, audience participation in panels should be in the form of actual questions. Most of us have heard this piece of advice before — and for good reason. The audience only gets a small portion of time in which to participate, so when someone takes up 5 minutes offering their own point, it comes off as a tad selfish. I’ve had this happen at an academic conference: one individual went on and on with a critique of a fellow panelist’s paper, refusing to allow anyone else to ask a question; in the end, the Q&A time became “random dude’s babblefest time.” I’m not saying that offering up a comment is necessarily a bad thing, but if you’re in a room full of raised hands, a question is much more useful than a running commentary. Ask a question. If you can, turn that comment into a question; you can always talk to the panelists afterwards! Wait to Prep Your Panel Until the Last MinuteIf possible, prep your panel well ahead of time, as travel arrangements may mean your panelists aren’t available a week before the convention. I learned this first hand; it’s not a wicked sin or anything, but it does mean your panelists can be put on the spot more often than they are comfortable with. Sometimes, you can produce a more interesting organic paneling experience by getting the basics out of the way. I find the in-depth discussions of a topic come not from going over the surface but digging into the meaty beats underneath. For example, it’s probably less interesting to discuss *what* urban fantasy is than it is to discuss how urban fantasy has evolved over time (or how urban fantasy authors engage with the political and social realities of the real world). Prepping panelists beforehand also gives you the opportunity to ask if there’s anything they *don’t* want to discuss (which leads me back to #1). Avoid Making Negative Blanket Statements About XGenerally speaking, blanket statements are inaccurate and crass. If you identify a negative trait with an entire nationality, it’s likely you’re completely wrong; in some cases, it’s quite likely someone in the room identifies themselves as that nationality. This applies to other groupings, too. The problem with blanket statements is that they have a tendency to come off as offensive. If someone says “all Americans are X,” and that thing doesn’t apply to me, I tend to feel like I’m being shit on for being born in the USA. I can’t imagine how it feels for someone coming from a traditionally marginalized culture or country to be told something similar, especially by someone who is not part of that culture or country. There are, of course, exceptions to this rule. Context matters. There are contexts in which a group identity is used to make a point about that group; that point usually implies exceptions to the rule. That said, I think it is often more useful to qualify every statement about a group. Often, “some” is a necessary word for the panel toolbox. And that’s my list. What would you add here? —————————- Note: