A new and different look at conventions.
When my husband and I were first married, he was expected to attend a national business convention in his field each January, and since these were held in interesting places like Miami, Las Vegas, and New Orleans, I took my own vacation from work at the same time and went along.
This was back in olden times when business heads were male, therefore convention planners organized day-long events for wives who had come. I can’t remember what was planned for the women, because I never attended. Though I wasn’t really involved in my husband’s business, I went to the men’s meetings as an observer, sitting silently in the back of enormous meeting rooms full of suits.
Of course there were the usual strategy speakers, discussions of advertising campaigns, and so on, and many were interesting. But you know what I remember best? The comradery.
During breaks those guys, whether they’d met before or not, greeted, slapped backs, smiled, laughed, joked, and even had semi-serious discussions. No one was a stranger. Passersby were invited in shouts to come join a group, offer ideas, tell a joke. I stood in corners and watched. It looked like loads of fun.
“It’s a guy thing,” I thought.
Many years later I attended a convention of my own. It was Bouchercon in Austin, Texas, 2002, and I was a newly published mystery author. This was even bigger than my husband’s long-ago business conventions, and, unexpectedly, I felt bewildered and overwhelmed. Everyone but me seemed to know a lot of people, and also know exactly where to go and why. A majority of the attendees this time were female, but I was still the observer, watching groups of women I didn’t know chatting, laughing, telling jokes, and having semi-serious business discussions. I walked up to a few groups, got smiles, but stood back as the conversations continued. What was wrong here?
Was it me? Was I destined to be the always outsider?
At that Bouchercon, yes, I was. I was an introvert, uncertain of protocol. I had no mental guidelines based on previous contacts. In other words, I hadn’t a clue how to be a part of all this comradery!
Did this ever change? You bet, because I did! At smaller conferences and conventions in my area, I learned. I swallowed my hesitation, gulped, joined chatting groups, listened, and even dared ask questions or offer ideas. In no time at all, I was a part of what was happening. I was an “insider.”
Since that time I’ve been to dozens of relatively small writer’s conferences (for learning), and conventions (learning and bookselling to fans), in the central United States where I live. I’ve spoken or appeared on panels at a majority of them. And I’ve loved enjoying sisterhood and brotherhood connections at all of them. I’ve learned I can go up to folks I’ve never seen in my life and begin a conversation. I can also have normal conversations (!) with those deemed most famous and favored in my profession without a single blush or hesitation. At these events, we’re all real folks. We understand each other, and 99% of us are willing to extend a hand offering friendship and help to fellow attendees.
I love it!
In recent years I’ve attended three of the largest writer’s conventions in the world: Malice Domestic in the Washington, D.C. area, Left Coast Crime when it visited El Paso, and, recently, Bouchercon in St. Louis.
The 2011 St. Louis Bouchercon was huge. Big, rabbit-warren of a hotel, meetings and panels on two floors, other events and conversations scattered everywhere. I had a wonderful time, (whether I got lost in the crowds or not), and would go again in a heartbeat.
What brought me into full-time participation? Simply understanding that, at these events, no one needs to play the part of a stranger. If I want to confine myself to the position of observer, I can. But, introvert or not, I now leap into the river of humanity and swim as part of the whole school. I act like a comrade, therefore I AM ONE, giving and receiving. And I love it!
Meet me at a conference, or at http://www.RadinesBooks.com
