Chantal Boudreau's Blog - Posts Tagged "art"
Adventures at Hal-Con
My very first convention was a Hal-Con, back in 1986, the first time the convention existed. It was Hal-Con 9, and I was a scrawny little fourteen-year-old with a crooked smile and lopsided glasses. My mother had sewn a costume for me, a dragonrider of Pern costume in greens and golds, and I made a little red fire lizard (yes, I know they aren’t red) to sit on my wrist. I entered artwork in the art show (an utter disaster), played a few games and met Guy Gavriel Kaye for the first time.
That feels like eons ago, and I never imagined myself as a guest at a con, even as a “local celebrity”, but there I was at Hal-Con 2011, the revived version, with my table of books, my scheduled slots in panels, and my official “guest pass”. It was a first of a different kind, and one that was equally exciting and overwhelming. This time I was forty instead of fourteen, and trying to be noticed so that people might take an interest in my books, rather than to avoid being stepped on. I was nervous but ready to face the crowd.
The first challenge was lugging boxes of books to my table, bleary-eyed and a little lost. Luckily, I had the help of my trusty sidekick, Brad, and a friend who worked at the con venue, Pete, to get me loaded onto a dolly and into the Author’s Corner. The volunteers at the convention were priceless, helping me to get settled in and making me feel very welcome.
Later that morning I sat for an interview with Haligonia.ca (which were streaming live at http://live.haligonia.ca/halifax-ns/n... ). They covered a lot of the action at the con, and added some fun to the hustle and bustle.
I then sat on a panel discussing zombies in popular culture. You can catch the highlights here:
http://hexedpodcast.blogspot.com/2011...
The rest of the afternoon was a busy blur at my table, handing out business cards, pimping Ren Garcia and Arlene Radasky’s works as well as my own, and selling the occasional book. The only real low points of the con, and they were minor, was not really having the opportunity to grab a bite to eat or a coffee, and the one fellow that soured my fun for a few moments when he looked at me scornfully and berated me for having a male protagonist in Fervor instead of a female one (yeah – I’ll fix that for you...just let me get right on that *sigh*)
I was pretty hungry when I got to the Stargazer Soiree, but the food there was scrumptious, the company was delightful, and along with a lovely lady named Heather-Anne, I stole away more than an hour of Kelley Armstrong’s time (she had the coolest laptop bag ever – with a werewolf face and red bows). The three of us snuck over and stole a hug from Nicholas Brendon. I was so happy I was giddy.
The next morning I dragged myself back to the con centre for a 9:00 author Q & A panel (I was in very good company). Then I returned to tending my table, where I stayed until closing with the exception of a stolen hour at Starbucks with a strudel muffin, an eggnog latte and my NaNoWriMo project on my laptop (Sleep Escapes Us, check it out at: http://www.scribd.com/chantal_boudreau ). I shared some friendly conversation with my neighbour, Mark Oakley, a talented cartoonist. I traded a copy of Magic University for a signed copy of Stardrop for my daughter (she loved it!) Check out his great work at: http://iboxpublishing.com/index.php .
All-in-all, it was an extraordinary experience and my thanks and kudos go out to all of the organizers and volunteers. I got an invite to return in 2012, which I gladly accepted, and I’m looking forward to an even bigger and better gathering of the fandom kind next year.
That feels like eons ago, and I never imagined myself as a guest at a con, even as a “local celebrity”, but there I was at Hal-Con 2011, the revived version, with my table of books, my scheduled slots in panels, and my official “guest pass”. It was a first of a different kind, and one that was equally exciting and overwhelming. This time I was forty instead of fourteen, and trying to be noticed so that people might take an interest in my books, rather than to avoid being stepped on. I was nervous but ready to face the crowd.
The first challenge was lugging boxes of books to my table, bleary-eyed and a little lost. Luckily, I had the help of my trusty sidekick, Brad, and a friend who worked at the con venue, Pete, to get me loaded onto a dolly and into the Author’s Corner. The volunteers at the convention were priceless, helping me to get settled in and making me feel very welcome.
Later that morning I sat for an interview with Haligonia.ca (which were streaming live at http://live.haligonia.ca/halifax-ns/n... ). They covered a lot of the action at the con, and added some fun to the hustle and bustle.
I then sat on a panel discussing zombies in popular culture. You can catch the highlights here:
http://hexedpodcast.blogspot.com/2011...
The rest of the afternoon was a busy blur at my table, handing out business cards, pimping Ren Garcia and Arlene Radasky’s works as well as my own, and selling the occasional book. The only real low points of the con, and they were minor, was not really having the opportunity to grab a bite to eat or a coffee, and the one fellow that soured my fun for a few moments when he looked at me scornfully and berated me for having a male protagonist in Fervor instead of a female one (yeah – I’ll fix that for you...just let me get right on that *sigh*)
I was pretty hungry when I got to the Stargazer Soiree, but the food there was scrumptious, the company was delightful, and along with a lovely lady named Heather-Anne, I stole away more than an hour of Kelley Armstrong’s time (she had the coolest laptop bag ever – with a werewolf face and red bows). The three of us snuck over and stole a hug from Nicholas Brendon. I was so happy I was giddy.
The next morning I dragged myself back to the con centre for a 9:00 author Q & A panel (I was in very good company). Then I returned to tending my table, where I stayed until closing with the exception of a stolen hour at Starbucks with a strudel muffin, an eggnog latte and my NaNoWriMo project on my laptop (Sleep Escapes Us, check it out at: http://www.scribd.com/chantal_boudreau ). I shared some friendly conversation with my neighbour, Mark Oakley, a talented cartoonist. I traded a copy of Magic University for a signed copy of Stardrop for my daughter (she loved it!) Check out his great work at: http://iboxpublishing.com/index.php .
All-in-all, it was an extraordinary experience and my thanks and kudos go out to all of the organizers and volunteers. I got an invite to return in 2012, which I gladly accepted, and I’m looking forward to an even bigger and better gathering of the fandom kind next year.
Someday...
I’m hoping someday I won’t have to tell people that I write. It would be wonderful if they would just know, at the mere mention of my name. I know that’s a lot to hope for, but I really hate telling people I write. Even if you can confirm that, yes, I have been published, many folks will still look at you as if you had just told them that you eat babies.
“What did you write? Have I heard of it? Can I buy it in *fill-in-the-name-of-some-chain-bookstore-here*?”
If you can’t say yes to these questions, you then get that look that suggests that not only do you eat babies, but you just asked them to eat babies with you.
It’s hilarious, in a sad and pathetic sort of way. If I tell people I do artwork, I get a completely different response.
“Wow! You’re an artist? Can I see some of your work?”
No cold stares like I’m some sort of leper. No demands if any of my work is hanging in the Louvre, or the Met, or even the local art gallery. They are interested, in a positive way. When I show them my work, despite the fact that I’m not a particularly good artist, I usually get an equally positive response, unless the person is a professional artist. Rarely will I get any comments like “I don’t think that’s the appropriate medium for that piece,” “I think you used the wrong perspective for that one,” “how come that woman isn’t positioned at the centre of picture with a powerful pose? This is sexist.” They look things over with a hint of admiration in their eyes and say: “These are really nice. I particularly like this one and that one.”
On the other hand, if I give them a story to read, along with being less than receptive because I’m a “nobody” writer, everybody becomes an expert and a critic. “I think this would have been better written in first person,” “this isn’t descriptive enough – I wanted to know exactly what the chair in the far corner of the room looked like,” or “the story ends too abruptly...yes, I know it is horror and the main character just died, but you should have found a way of extending it.” Few people respond the way they would have if you had just showed them a drawing of equal merit. The focus is almost always on exactly what they think is wrong with your work.
I have to say I am grateful for folks I know who have buckled down and forced themselves to read my work. Many of them don’t look at me like I eat babies anymore. Some of them are even eager to read anything new I have to offer. This along with the fact that I have publishers who have been willing to invest effort and money in publishing and promoting my work does give me some sense of validation. It still doesn’t mean, however, that I don’t have to prove myself over, and over, and over again. And I can guarantee you that I will slip up from time to time. Everyone does.
Someday, I hope my work and name will stand on its own, and readers don’t spend the majority of their reading time scrutinizing every corner for the negative. They’ll just take it at face value and enjoy it for what it is, the way they would with one of my drawings. That’s what I long for.
Someday...
“What did you write? Have I heard of it? Can I buy it in *fill-in-the-name-of-some-chain-bookstore-here*?”
If you can’t say yes to these questions, you then get that look that suggests that not only do you eat babies, but you just asked them to eat babies with you.
It’s hilarious, in a sad and pathetic sort of way. If I tell people I do artwork, I get a completely different response.
“Wow! You’re an artist? Can I see some of your work?”
No cold stares like I’m some sort of leper. No demands if any of my work is hanging in the Louvre, or the Met, or even the local art gallery. They are interested, in a positive way. When I show them my work, despite the fact that I’m not a particularly good artist, I usually get an equally positive response, unless the person is a professional artist. Rarely will I get any comments like “I don’t think that’s the appropriate medium for that piece,” “I think you used the wrong perspective for that one,” “how come that woman isn’t positioned at the centre of picture with a powerful pose? This is sexist.” They look things over with a hint of admiration in their eyes and say: “These are really nice. I particularly like this one and that one.”
On the other hand, if I give them a story to read, along with being less than receptive because I’m a “nobody” writer, everybody becomes an expert and a critic. “I think this would have been better written in first person,” “this isn’t descriptive enough – I wanted to know exactly what the chair in the far corner of the room looked like,” or “the story ends too abruptly...yes, I know it is horror and the main character just died, but you should have found a way of extending it.” Few people respond the way they would have if you had just showed them a drawing of equal merit. The focus is almost always on exactly what they think is wrong with your work.
I have to say I am grateful for folks I know who have buckled down and forced themselves to read my work. Many of them don’t look at me like I eat babies anymore. Some of them are even eager to read anything new I have to offer. This along with the fact that I have publishers who have been willing to invest effort and money in publishing and promoting my work does give me some sense of validation. It still doesn’t mean, however, that I don’t have to prove myself over, and over, and over again. And I can guarantee you that I will slip up from time to time. Everyone does.
Someday, I hope my work and name will stand on its own, and readers don’t spend the majority of their reading time scrutinizing every corner for the negative. They’ll just take it at face value and enjoy it for what it is, the way they would with one of my drawings. That’s what I long for.
Someday...
