World Fantasy Con
Nov. 4th, 2010 10:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
marinessI don't think I can sum up World Fantasy Con in a single post, so, bullet points:
1. First and foremost, much, much thanks to everyone that helped me navigate the multiple accessibility issues of the Hyatt hotel and various restaurants, which will be listed in another distinctly negative post, from everything from helping with doors and the second floor bathroom to getting me and out of restaurants and back to the hotel room to the Florida and other folks on gmail and Yahoo who provided long distance reassurance. I can't remember everyone's names but, again, thanks.
(For the record, the hotel did refund a portion of my payment, and they will be hearing considerably more from me.)
2. The one good thing about my hotel room: it turned out I was right across from L.E. Modesitt. The one bad thing about this: I didn't actually find this out until Monday. His waistcoats were somewhat less brilliant at that point.
And that was pretty much it. This is highly related to why I didn't end up at any of the room parties I was kindly invited to; I just couldn't face any more of the hallways.
3. Biggest lingering trouble with a con like this: No, not con crud, but that if you attempt to talk about all the fabulous people you met and talked to, you will inevitably fail, so I'm not going to try. (Especially since one of the people I met and talked to was, as she carefully explained, not really there and actually invisible and just a figment of my imagination. While this fit the theme of the con beautifully, this was also rather sad since she was one of the most amusing people, hands down, I met at the con and she is also, now that I've looked her up, an amazing poet and writer even if she, well, doesn't exist.)
The related problem with a con like this is that you don't get to spend enough time with all of the fabulous people that you met and talked. At least twenty people fall into this category, and we can definitely add that meetingzoethe in the midst of loudness, just when the floor started rocking back and forth, was high on the "not enough time" and "man I hope my babbling at this point is not freaking her out."
4. Ah, the babbling: More on this later.
5. Most intimidating part of the con: the bar. Partly because of the reasons other people have talked about – the presence of so many major editors, publishers, and writers, but mostly because the Hyatt bar is set up to have high bar stools and tables, with absolutely nothing at normal level, meaning that in the wheelchair, I was considerably below everyone else. (Also, not as aside, the bartenders literally couldn't see me and I had to ask other people to order my glasses of water.) Honestly, just navigating through the bar – occasionally necessary to get to other events – was rather intimidating; the bar was continually (from about noon to 3 am) crowded and noisy and no one could see me. From time to time I would spot people I needed/wanted to talk to, but given where they were, said talking did not happen.
6. Considerably less intimidating part of the con: the balcony leading out from the bar, where, not coincidentally, the hotel had set up comfy chairs and small tables where groups of people could gather and chatter, which is where I ended up spending most of the con time where I wasn't sleeping in my room, and which turned out to be an excellent place for a quiet or noisy chat.
7. Part of the con that made me feel most like an imposter: The big group signing, where I went to have my ebooks and a few other things signed and ended up getting pulled into signing books myself. As someone else (bogwitch?) noted – I was on the other side of the table! Yay –
Except that I honestly didn't feel that I should be there, whatever the outcries from fellow Hadley Rille writers (and publisherericreynolds, who was awesome to meet in person, and while I'm digressing, allow me to happily note that Hadley Rille is celebrating its 5th Anniversary, yay!). It felt awkward. Weird. Strange.
8: Imposter syndrome, continued: But then again, I felt that way throughout the whole con. Part of this was because a significant part of my thoughts were back here, in Florida, with the cats and the bathtub and the garbage can stuff (best not to ask).
And part of this was because I was incredibly tired, but still felt that I had to be there, "on" and entertaining.
Two parts to this: one, this frequently led to me falling into full fledged babble mode, in which I wasn't aware of what I was actually saying, which in at least two cases led me to say things I probably shouldn't have said and will be knocking myself on the head for saying for some time to come. And two, I realized – I'm not really that person anymore. And, ok, three – I'm honestly just not used to this much socialization anymore. I spend much of my time not talking to anyone, and confronting several straight days filled with conversation got overwhelming. By Monday I craved silence – as odd as that might seem to the many who saw me in babble/gregarious mode.
As I mentioned in a few previous posts, working in marketing taught me to seem gregarious, even to people I don't know that well. And I do meet a few people (and a few of these were at the con) who do feel like instant friends, who I can relax and be myself with.
But I'm finding that I'm my real self – with only a very, very few people, the ones I don't feel impelled to entertain, to put on the mask, to feel that I must chatter, chatter, chatter in amusement to. And even that chattering self has a few different components – I'm quite different with long term friends/acquaintances than with those I've just met.
But I still forced myself to seem friendly, to chatter, to laugh, to smile, all the while thinking, this isn't me. This really isn't me. Until I zonked out asleep.
9: Imposter syndrome, part three: it didn't help that I spent so much of the con – mornings, afternoons, portions of the early evening – sleeping, out of sheer necessity. (Which is related to why I didn't end up at any of the room parties I was kindly invited to – that, and the sheer, I can't handle any more of the hallways of this hotel feeling – which is a pity since I understand I missed some excellent cheese at one of those.)
10: Imposter syndrome, part four: Also, a con like this reminded me sharply of just everything I haven't done: everyone there had finished several novels and published about fifty times more stories than I had or created extraordinary award winning webcomics and webzines and so on, and alas I am not exaggerating. All very humbling.
(I will quietly note, too, that the level of enjoyment for congoers, from my observation, seemed fairly directly related to either how well they knew attendees (or had someone able to introduce them) and/or their writing/editing qualifications. I definitely had an easier time just because I could establish myself as having written/sold three professional level stories. And that's a problem, but one for another time.)
11: Imposter syndrome, part five: I put up a great act, I think, except for once on Thursday and most definitely on Monday, but, physically managing this con was difficult and I was aware of just how much of an act it was.
12. Disability fail: I counted five separate instances of people saying, "So, I guess you write disabled characters." Six questions of, "So, what did you do to yourself?" (counting only congoers not airport or other random people). The looks, although fewer of these than at Readercon, probably because I wasn't lurching about with the cane.
These were not from the same people.
Again, note the wording, the assumptions, the thought that because I use a wheelchair, I must automatically want to write about disabled people. I don't. It's entirely possible that other people who use wheelchairs do, but, well, I'm not other disabled people. I'm me. The thought that I must have done something to cause this illness.
And a new painful question, the, "Well, do we know if we can get the wheelchair there?"
It was a fair question, because, unfortunately, I couldn't get the wheelchair everywhere, but it made me feel small and burdensome and a problem for everyone, especially when plans were changed to accommodate the wheelchair. Don't get me wrong, I was grateful, but I felt awful about it and by the end of the trip I had to kick the chair.
Using the chair unquestionably made this a better experience than Readercon – as I said, fewer looks, and oddly, more acceptance of my disability – apparently, we so associate "disabled" with "wheelchair" that our brains automatically make an association when a wheelchair is seen. I'm not saying this well. I'll try to figure it out in another post.
Small counter to this: on the way up, Southwest Airlines accidentally labeled my wheelchair as "normal ware," which cracked me up.
12. But with all this said, I must admit that this was the best experience so far of the three more "pro" cons (as opposed to MegaCon and GenCon which I just go to for the entertainment value) I've attended, and finances allowing, I will be attending next year (with some learned adjustments.) It is, as others have noted, a very intense con: it keeps going and going and going and going pretty much non stop and you keep thinking that it can't possibly keep going on at this pace and then you meet yet more incredibly marvelous people (seriously: I was still meeting people—well, one person--Tuesday morning, well post the con) and you realize that it hasn't stopped and that no this is not just a dream created by a mixture of coffee and whatever was in that apple pie drink.
13. I did, indeed, finally find the marvelous Jeni's Ice Creams which are apparently made from crack.
14. I can't believe I had to tellglvalentine, movie snarker extraordinaire, about the upcoming awesomeness of the literal
train wreck movie. I have persuaded her, I think, that she absolutely must but must see it, which means that, assuming I get there (the reaction from local friends at the thought of seeing this has ranged from stark horror to, no, no, no, and I did mention no and what are
you not understanding about no) we are now providing you two snarks for the cost of one terrible, terrible movie. You can thank me later, since I don't think she will. In fact I am braced for the hate mail and refusal to ever ever speak to me again.
15. Also, I did meet one other person who was also trying to move the same weekend as the con, and was experiencing my same disorientation. I felt part of the world again.
16. This bullet point is filled with all of the marvelous, witty and insightful things that I should have said in the previous bullet points.
1. First and foremost, much, much thanks to everyone that helped me navigate the multiple accessibility issues of the Hyatt hotel and various restaurants, which will be listed in another distinctly negative post, from everything from helping with doors and the second floor bathroom to getting me and out of restaurants and back to the hotel room to the Florida and other folks on gmail and Yahoo who provided long distance reassurance. I can't remember everyone's names but, again, thanks.
(For the record, the hotel did refund a portion of my payment, and they will be hearing considerably more from me.)
2. The one good thing about my hotel room: it turned out I was right across from L.E. Modesitt. The one bad thing about this: I didn't actually find this out until Monday. His waistcoats were somewhat less brilliant at that point.
And that was pretty much it. This is highly related to why I didn't end up at any of the room parties I was kindly invited to; I just couldn't face any more of the hallways.
3. Biggest lingering trouble with a con like this: No, not con crud, but that if you attempt to talk about all the fabulous people you met and talked to, you will inevitably fail, so I'm not going to try. (Especially since one of the people I met and talked to was, as she carefully explained, not really there and actually invisible and just a figment of my imagination. While this fit the theme of the con beautifully, this was also rather sad since she was one of the most amusing people, hands down, I met at the con and she is also, now that I've looked her up, an amazing poet and writer even if she, well, doesn't exist.)
The related problem with a con like this is that you don't get to spend enough time with all of the fabulous people that you met and talked. At least twenty people fall into this category, and we can definitely add that meeting
zoethe in the midst of loudness, just when the floor started rocking back and forth, was high on the "not enough time" and "man I hope my babbling at this point is not freaking her out."4. Ah, the babbling: More on this later.
5. Most intimidating part of the con: the bar. Partly because of the reasons other people have talked about – the presence of so many major editors, publishers, and writers, but mostly because the Hyatt bar is set up to have high bar stools and tables, with absolutely nothing at normal level, meaning that in the wheelchair, I was considerably below everyone else. (Also, not as aside, the bartenders literally couldn't see me and I had to ask other people to order my glasses of water.) Honestly, just navigating through the bar – occasionally necessary to get to other events – was rather intimidating; the bar was continually (from about noon to 3 am) crowded and noisy and no one could see me. From time to time I would spot people I needed/wanted to talk to, but given where they were, said talking did not happen.
6. Considerably less intimidating part of the con: the balcony leading out from the bar, where, not coincidentally, the hotel had set up comfy chairs and small tables where groups of people could gather and chatter, which is where I ended up spending most of the con time where I wasn't sleeping in my room, and which turned out to be an excellent place for a quiet or noisy chat.
7. Part of the con that made me feel most like an imposter: The big group signing, where I went to have my ebooks and a few other things signed and ended up getting pulled into signing books myself. As someone else (
bogwitch?) noted – I was on the other side of the table! Yay –Except that I honestly didn't feel that I should be there, whatever the outcries from fellow Hadley Rille writers (and publisher
ericreynolds, who was awesome to meet in person, and while I'm digressing, allow me to happily note that Hadley Rille is celebrating its 5th Anniversary, yay!). It felt awkward. Weird. Strange.8: Imposter syndrome, continued: But then again, I felt that way throughout the whole con. Part of this was because a significant part of my thoughts were back here, in Florida, with the cats and the bathtub and the garbage can stuff (best not to ask).
And part of this was because I was incredibly tired, but still felt that I had to be there, "on" and entertaining.
Two parts to this: one, this frequently led to me falling into full fledged babble mode, in which I wasn't aware of what I was actually saying, which in at least two cases led me to say things I probably shouldn't have said and will be knocking myself on the head for saying for some time to come. And two, I realized – I'm not really that person anymore. And, ok, three – I'm honestly just not used to this much socialization anymore. I spend much of my time not talking to anyone, and confronting several straight days filled with conversation got overwhelming. By Monday I craved silence – as odd as that might seem to the many who saw me in babble/gregarious mode.
As I mentioned in a few previous posts, working in marketing taught me to seem gregarious, even to people I don't know that well. And I do meet a few people (and a few of these were at the con) who do feel like instant friends, who I can relax and be myself with.
But I'm finding that I'm my real self – with only a very, very few people, the ones I don't feel impelled to entertain, to put on the mask, to feel that I must chatter, chatter, chatter in amusement to. And even that chattering self has a few different components – I'm quite different with long term friends/acquaintances than with those I've just met.
But I still forced myself to seem friendly, to chatter, to laugh, to smile, all the while thinking, this isn't me. This really isn't me. Until I zonked out asleep.
9: Imposter syndrome, part three: it didn't help that I spent so much of the con – mornings, afternoons, portions of the early evening – sleeping, out of sheer necessity. (Which is related to why I didn't end up at any of the room parties I was kindly invited to – that, and the sheer, I can't handle any more of the hallways of this hotel feeling – which is a pity since I understand I missed some excellent cheese at one of those.)
10: Imposter syndrome, part four: Also, a con like this reminded me sharply of just everything I haven't done: everyone there had finished several novels and published about fifty times more stories than I had or created extraordinary award winning webcomics and webzines and so on, and alas I am not exaggerating. All very humbling.
(I will quietly note, too, that the level of enjoyment for congoers, from my observation, seemed fairly directly related to either how well they knew attendees (or had someone able to introduce them) and/or their writing/editing qualifications. I definitely had an easier time just because I could establish myself as having written/sold three professional level stories. And that's a problem, but one for another time.)
11: Imposter syndrome, part five: I put up a great act, I think, except for once on Thursday and most definitely on Monday, but, physically managing this con was difficult and I was aware of just how much of an act it was.
12. Disability fail: I counted five separate instances of people saying, "So, I guess you write disabled characters." Six questions of, "So, what did you do to yourself?" (counting only congoers not airport or other random people). The looks, although fewer of these than at Readercon, probably because I wasn't lurching about with the cane.
These were not from the same people.
Again, note the wording, the assumptions, the thought that because I use a wheelchair, I must automatically want to write about disabled people. I don't. It's entirely possible that other people who use wheelchairs do, but, well, I'm not other disabled people. I'm me. The thought that I must have done something to cause this illness.
And a new painful question, the, "Well, do we know if we can get the wheelchair there?"
It was a fair question, because, unfortunately, I couldn't get the wheelchair everywhere, but it made me feel small and burdensome and a problem for everyone, especially when plans were changed to accommodate the wheelchair. Don't get me wrong, I was grateful, but I felt awful about it and by the end of the trip I had to kick the chair.
Using the chair unquestionably made this a better experience than Readercon – as I said, fewer looks, and oddly, more acceptance of my disability – apparently, we so associate "disabled" with "wheelchair" that our brains automatically make an association when a wheelchair is seen. I'm not saying this well. I'll try to figure it out in another post.
Small counter to this: on the way up, Southwest Airlines accidentally labeled my wheelchair as "normal ware," which cracked me up.
12. But with all this said, I must admit that this was the best experience so far of the three more "pro" cons (as opposed to MegaCon and GenCon which I just go to for the entertainment value) I've attended, and finances allowing, I will be attending next year (with some learned adjustments.) It is, as others have noted, a very intense con: it keeps going and going and going and going pretty much non stop and you keep thinking that it can't possibly keep going on at this pace and then you meet yet more incredibly marvelous people (seriously: I was still meeting people—well, one person--Tuesday morning, well post the con) and you realize that it hasn't stopped and that no this is not just a dream created by a mixture of coffee and whatever was in that apple pie drink.
13. I did, indeed, finally find the marvelous Jeni's Ice Creams which are apparently made from crack.
14. I can't believe I had to tell
glvalentine, movie snarker extraordinaire, about the upcoming awesomeness of the literaltrain wreck movie. I have persuaded her, I think, that she absolutely must but must see it, which means that, assuming I get there (the reaction from local friends at the thought of seeing this has ranged from stark horror to, no, no, no, and I did mention no and what are
you not understanding about no) we are now providing you two snarks for the cost of one terrible, terrible movie. You can thank me later, since I don't think she will. In fact I am braced for the hate mail and refusal to ever ever speak to me again.
15. Also, I did meet one other person who was also trying to move the same weekend as the con, and was experiencing my same disorientation. I felt part of the world again.
16. This bullet point is filled with all of the marvelous, witty and insightful things that I should have said in the previous bullet points.