Why I Go To Conventions
While I was at Worldcon last weekend, Emily Wilson (writer for New Scientist and author of the Sumerians trilogy) asked me why I go to conventions. This seemed like a really good question that deserved a thoughtful response, so with Emily's permission, I decided to answer it in this week's newsletter. (And just FYI, this will be another short one, because I'm dealing with post-con exhaustion and I'm still traveling for another few days.)
I love conventions for so many reasons, but a lot of it boils down to the fact that cons feel like unique social spaces where you can interact with a pretty specific population of speculative fiction fans (and comics fans, etc.) who want to geek out about the same things you do. There are people I only see at cons -- and I see them all over the world! -- and conversations that really only take place at cons, though sometimes those conversations spill over into online spaces before and after a con. Cons are also a place to hone and promote your identity as a fan or creator of awesome fantastical stories.
So let's take those things one by one.
I love niche communities and affinity-based social spaces -- and a good convention feels like a bubble universe, in which everyone shares at least some of your interests. It's nice to be in a place where we all speak the same "language" (even if, or especially if, some folks are not native English speakers) and want to nerd out about some of the same stuff. Sometimes at a con I run into a person I haven't seen since a previous con, and we immediately restart a conversation that were in the middle of the last time we see each other. At times, it's a bit like we've been in suspended animation for months, and now we're being defrosted and picking up where we left off. I don't think of my SFF community as being local, and I definitely don't want it to be confined to the United States or any particular population -- so cons are a great way to have a community that transcends borders.
(Side note: This is one reason it's worth making the trek to a convention outside the USA. Certain people I love seeing at cons can't visit the States, for reasons of cost or visa status. Some of the coolest people in the world are having a harder time getting into the United States than they used to, because of shitty policies driven by xenophobia. It really sucks.)
I also love discovering new authors (new to me, anyway) whose books really ought to be on my radar. At Worldcon, I met a ton of folks on panels and in social spaces whose work I hadn't read yet, and now I have a whole bookmark folder on my phone containing books to look out for.
My favorite convention memories often involve panel discussions that expanded my ideas about what stories could do, or have done. And my favorite informal conversations about books or other media often lead to some real insights. (My story "Love Might Be Too Strong a Word" was mostly written on the flight home after some very intense conversations about gender in speculative fiction at Wiscon.) I love hearing what people are reading, writing, and obsessing about. To the extent that conversations spill over into social media from cons, you still get the more nuanced and thoughtful version of those chats at a con.
One underrated aspect of being in a community is the conversations, both wide and narrow, among its members. Another important aspect is just the way we care about each other and pay attention to each other's challenges and triumphs. Convention goers are a very loose community, but a community nonetheless, and it's nice to catch up with people and hear their news in person.
(And ideally, you shouldn't need to be an extrovert! I love one one chats as well as highly structured conversations like panels. It's also on those of us who know a bunch of people already and have the spoons to do so to find the folks who are new and overwhelmed, and possibly shy, and introduce them to everyone, in a chill and friendly manner.)
I forget who, but someone at Worldcon told me they view cons as a form of professional development: they're learning stuff about their chosen profession, but also making connections and getting exposure. There is a way in which it's just helpful to be seen at cons, especially ones that are full of fellow creators or publishing professionals who form part of the aforementioned community. I think this is an important aspect of cons, especially for anyone who has books to promote or find a publisher for. It's also true on some level that we're all co-workers and cons are where we get to talk over workplace conditions.
That said, there is a downside to cons as professional spaces. Going to a con typically involves exhausting travel, followed by sleep deprivation at the con, and cons have become more stressful now that many of us have to maintain vigilance to avoid getting covid. Combine stress and exhaustion with innumerable social interactions where you're making an impression on your peers, and it's a bit of a recipe for anxiety. This is why I don't drink alcohol at cons anymore, and I try to remember to rest and practice self care. It's really okay to wander away from the con and take a walk next to a body of water or in a nice part of town. Even if I might miss out on seeing some people or panels, I'm better off having a break on a regular basis.
The other downside to cons is the tendency to obsess over status: who's up and who’s down. A ton of insecure people, whose livelihood depends on the whims of the book world, can fall into emphasizing arbitrary markers of achievement and importance, and it can get exhausting. As I wrote in my writing-advice book Never Say You Can't Survive, whenever someone is ratholing about who got a cookie or didn't get a cookie lately, I usually ask, "What have you been reading?" The answer is almost always super interesting and leads to the sort of conversations that are the main reason I go to cons.