... and Con-trast

Last Monday, on leaving NineWorlds properly, I headed into London and met up with friends from York. Or, more specifically, three friends from York, one of whom was travelling from Northampton, and one friend from Huntingdon, who was travelling with the other two from York, and... yes, it started off a little complicated and went from there.

In any case, we Assembled in our flat for the week, and on Tuesday we headed out and painted the town red. Or something like that. There were entertaining (hahaha, yes) incidents with the exceedingly height-phobic member of the group (which ruled out further trips on the DLR, though a little late for that first one) and lots of fluttering about getting briefly separated by ooh shiny, but we all congregated together for the Fantasy In The Court event at Goldsboro Books. Whoo-ee, that was a crowd and a half for a little bookshop. I don't think I've ever seen the authors-per-square-metre count quite so high. We were all a little overwhelmed by that, and still tired from journeying (or previous con) and traversing London all day, so we gathered up the signatures to go with the books we'd acquired, I grabbed Liz de Jager a glass of water on my last squirm through the crowd since she looked so despairing when the bookshop staff didn't see her try to catch them, and we called it a night.

We spent a lot of Wednesday in Forbidden Planet... I bought posters wilfully and without care of consequence, along with, surprise surprise, another book, and cried off with one friend to go rest at the flat in anticipation of WorldCon starting the next day. That being said, three of us did sidle over on the DLR to the ExCel centre to hit registration while it was quiet, and ran into a long time friend there too. She lives about thirty miles from us, normally, so of course we only see her when we all go to DragonCon in Atlanta, or WorldCon in London, or... Yeah. We did a quick trip together on the Emirates cable cars nearby just for fun, then split again to get some sleep and recharge for it all kicking off on Thursday.

So. WorldCon.

Con attendance: 10,700, I heard someone say in passing...

Pre-con book count: 29

Six things to do at 3pm. On this page, anyway.

On Wednesday, I checked out the online web app for the schedule of WorldCon, and went through the 1171 listed track events, readings, and signings. I managed to narrow it down to 165, and went from there to the paper programme to narrow it further. Then, of course, it came down on the day and the time to, "What do I really feel like right now?" and "Can I even get into this tiny crowded room?" and "Should I maybe eat something today?" to decide what I actually attended. Now this, this was much more like DragonCon. Highlighting 7 events at the same time and knowing there's a strong possibility you won't make it to any of them because something else will distract you entirely. Looking at the list of vendors in the big dealers' hall and trying to keep the sheer avarice from gleaming so bright in your eyes your roommates won't be able to sleep. Planning which cosplay to wear on each day based around what appropriate panels you'll be trying to get into...

And then of course, life happens, and even the tentative plans go out of the window. Thursday morning, we split and headed into the ExCel separately, so our height-phobic wouldn't have to face the DLR, and then found that he and his partner couldn't get into the ExCel on foot by any obvious means... aside from crossing the lofty DLR footbridge. He could, of course, ask the information desk and the ExCel staff about accessible ground routes. As soon as he was inside. Some circular arguments there. In any case, he summoned help in the form of recently arrived online friends, who were darling and responded immediately, and I mocked him up a blindfold and he, to his eternal credit, made it across the bridge.

I think I went to the dealers' hall after that, to drift and admire and catch my breath. I did make it to swing dancing lessons, and enjoyed swirling about in my steampunk dress (which is astonishingly hot to wear, for having so little fabric in it), and got to two whole panels - pseudonyms, with Robin Hobb and others; and a gloriously genre-spun I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue that included Mornington Crescent with the addition of fictional stations, and some excellently done One Song To The Tune Of Another, and even a surprise appearance of Hamish and Dougal in Sound Charades (which truly, thoroughly confused those in the room and indeed on the panel who hadn't actually heard the show before). And then we fled again, too tired to stay for the swing dancing event and show off what we'd learned.

I have vague recollections of making it to the "Exceptional Girl Warrior" panel at 10am on Friday, and the notes to prove it, but that one's mostly got lost in the haze of double-con, I think. I remember the "Kill the Parents" panel moderated by Todd McCaffrey, not least because I bumped into two of my gang in there and hugs with Todd were exchanged. I also managed the "Writing SF/F in non-Western Modes" panel, and Elizabeth Bear and Scott Lynch's signings again (having not wanted to bombard them with a stack each at NineWorlds, though in retrospect that would have worked out quite well, it being such a little con), and even got to a little play. (It was called Mastermind, written by Michael Patrick Sullivan, and superbly acted by Rhys Lawton and an understudy for the female part, who was brilliant but not listed on the playbill as it was such a last minute change, and I didn't think to write down her name and am now cursing myself because she was excellent for being thrown in with little to no warning to the point where she still had the script in her hand. Somehow she worked around that so well I forgot she was line-checking most of the time.)

At six o'clock half our group reconvened for the panel we'd been waiting for all day: Welcome... to Night Vale.

Group cosplay always has more impact than single, but the reaction was still immensely pleasing. We were ushered to seats at the front, deference was paid to us throughout the panel ("Well, you have to be careful of those hooded figures - present company excepted..."), and quite a lot of photos were taken afterwards, both in the room and, better still, with a wonderful Cecil (who I'd snapped at NineWorlds) out in the corridor. I delight in a cosplay that makes people laugh and point and smile and compliment and photograph and appreciate the thought, and this one ticked all those boxes. A grand idea from my friend Legira. And the panel itself was pretty good, too, though wryly amusing as one panelist kept desperately trying to find ways to make NightVale make sense...

It did mean I missed the "Liveship Trading: Fantasy Economics" panel, though, so if anybody wants to fire me over their notes from that one I'd be rather grateful.

I should have gone to the Philharmonic Orchestra set; that sounded wonderful from the tweets I was seeing, but instead we rested up a bit and checked out the library in the Fan Village (comprised of tents promoting other cons and bids for as-yet-undecided locations for future Worldcons, gaming tents, chill-out tents, food van, and craft activity tent, all indoors and surrounding a big open green space for kids to wear themselves out playing on, and for tai-chi in the mornings, medieval knights duelling, and Quidditch or other wide games at certain times). We hit up the "You Write Pretty" panel, which was a fun examination of what makes a sentence memorable and appealing to different people, queued for a little while for the Ceilidh, then decided it was running too late and staying upright was starting to make everything ache so called it quits.

Saturday I was Quicksilver again, with Jim Croce on the hidden speaker once more, and running very late to get in to the ExCel. I missed the first two panels I wanted (at 11 and 12 respectively), missed Stephen Baxter's signing, missed breakfast, missed lunch, but managed to squeeze into a panel rather wonderfully called, "Your 'realistic' fantasy is a washed out colourless emptiness compared to the Rabelaisian reality. - Discuss." It was crowded and hot in there - so crowded that part way through one of the ExCel staff came in to herd out anyone standing against the walls or sitting on the floor, even though they were well out of the way and keeping the aisles and exits clear. This was also the start of the frequent mantra I heard all weekend, of how the Loncon staff were excellent, and the ExCel staff were... not, on the whole. He didn't bother to lower his voice as he ordered people out, repeatedly and unnecessarily, talking over the panelists, louder than their microphones, winding up everyone he was booting out and everyone he was leaving in. It was a shame, because the panel was interesting, and I would have liked to hear all of it, even if it looked like I was nodding off because pneumatic drills had kept me awake the night before and the room was warm and soporific. My notes would imply I was very much awake for all of it.

It's also a shame because looking back through the con booklet (more reliable than my dazed memory), that looks like the only panel I made it to at all on Saturday. Again, if anybody has notes for "Travel in Fantasy" or "Full-spectrum Fantasy" or "Meet the New King, Same as the Old King", I'd appreciate that. I was hugely tired on Saturday, and also thoroughly, pleasantly distracted by heading along to Todd's signing with my friends and having him suddenly introduce me to Anne McCaffrey's agent, eagerly pushing me forward and explaining how I write and should be talking to the People To Know, while of course I was going, "Ah. Yes. I would currently be dressed as a character from X-Men, wearing a silver wig and the kitschest jacket known to mankind. Now is definitely the best time to make a first impression on a renowned and experienced professional agent."

Oh well. She was lovely about it, effortlessly graceful and gracious, and didn't seem to mind chatting to us for an hour or so while Todd signed. I hope I will meet her again, when Dryden is edited and I am wholly prepared to start pursuing agents and publishers properly, and so will probably not be in full-on costume. She was also at a little Del Rey event later that evening, which was promoting new and upcoming releases, and followed up our conversation by presenting us with postcards for one of the books she'd mentioned, which was very nice.

At that little event, I chatted to quite a few other people, and notably ran into a freshly-published author with whom I shared a brief squee-flail over X-Men in general, the concept of her novel (One Night In Sixes, it's called, and it appears to be out now in ebook, and I shall have to get hold of it to see if the awesome of the concept carries through - if it does, expect me to get evangelical about it, as usual) and the concept of mine, which was kind of her.

Saturday's efforts to completely exhaust me continued with the 80s Night Dance when we wandered off from the Del Rey party - a rather different affair to the 80s Cheesefest from NineWorlds, where requests were gladly taken and even the Scissor Sisters got played since it fitted the bouncy, cheery musical theme and the mood of the dancefloor. At this one, rather, the playlist was genuinely limited to 1980-1989. And yes, I danced my heart out to Safety Dance, The Final Countdown, Thriller (oh help, people started following me and I immediately forgot the next moves), and Karma Chameleon, but requests for YMCA and the Time Warp never came through. Not from the right era, you see. And requests for Bon Jovi, or Queen, or Bowie, or Abba, or something more danceable than the strange electropunk that took over shortly before 1am were met with blank stares or outright hostility ("There's no way I'm ever playing Abba"), which somewhat soured the mood. We joked that the DJ was playing little-known and not terrible danceable stuff in an effort to clear everyone out and pack up early. Trouble being, when I went up to her with the next attempts at requests, that was actually exactly what she told me she was doing, since apparently she was a last minute booking and wasn't being paid for it. So we left.

The disco, moderately busy. Yup.

The trip back to the flat took far too long, too, since we'd missed the last DLR in the hope of there still being something to dance to (sorry, guys), and the next due night bus didn't bother showing. That did give us time to make sure anyone leaving the ExCel found the right bus shelter, since the one nearest the exit had the night bus listed but wasn't an actual stop, as the people there before us had found out to their cost, but still. It wasn't quite how the night was supposed to end, and I still feel guilty for persuading tired friends to stay late in the misguided belief we would have fun.

I made it into the "We Can Rebuild You" panel the next day, which was a really interesting look at how disability is represented in fiction, although marred by the common problem of the audience questions actually being long comments instead. The "insight into editing for writers" panel later in the day was brilliant, though, and turned into a detailed, professional discussion of how to approach writing on multiple levels, and how to approach publishing short and long term too.

I also managed to be at the HarperVoyager stall in the dealers' hall at the perfect time, and got my fangirl hands on a proof, paperback copy of Robin Hobb's latest, Fool's Assassin. That quite literally made my day and nearly made me cry - I don't tend to buy hardbacks, so I was wondering how I was going to get my hands on a copy to read ASAP. And it improved when, with my friends' help, I managed to get it signed by the lady herself later on. That made Sunday pretty awesome. I caught Stephen Baxter too, having missed his signing previously, which meant I successfully got every one of the twelve books I'd taken down from York signed by their respective authors.

By Monday, the last day of Loncon, I was pretty much exhausted, so I saved my energy to make it to the last panel I really wanted: "Robin Hobb: When Assassins Didn't Need to be Hooded". I ran into a friend from NineWorlds who I'd kept seeing at all the creative writing panels, which made that panel even better.It was also delightful to listen to Patrick Rothfuss, Kate Elliott, and Kari Sperring gush and fan-flail over Robin Hobb. It's interesting, to me at least, to see who other authors enjoy reading, and look at how that influences their writing and reflects their tastes.

Our group reconvened, slowly, agreed we were collectively exhausted to the point of zombification, and cleared off to pack, eat, fit in one dazed game of Ticket To Ride, and sleep.

The trip home was an adventure all in itself, what with diverted buses, appallingly rude Londoners and drivers - and amazingly lovely, kind, and caring Londoners too, other con-goers at the train station, and something like 200 books between the five of us, but I'm pretty sure when we've recovered we'll all be quite happy we went. It wasn't as obviously diverse and openly welcoming as NineWorlds, but it was still a friendly, happy con overall, and there were a lot of people working extremely hard all over to keep things running well. With a little more co-operation and understanding from the ExCel staff (some of whom were superb and engaging and got into the spirit of things, to be fair) it would have been even better.

I have a problem.

Post-con book count: 69

Time in a Bottle plays, over both cons: 319

Con pair...

Today I'm sitting down, not leaving the house, and listening to old, old music I haven't heard in ten years and to which I still know all the words. My brain needs time to recover.

Because this weekend just gone, I was at Worldcon, aka Loncon3. (It's like the superhero of conventions. It has a secret identity and everything!)

The weekend before that, I was at NineWorlds, aka London Geekfest. (Sidekick? Villain? Or the real hero?)

In between, I stayed in London (I usually live in York) and did some other geeky things with friends, including Fantasy in the Court at Goldsboro Books, since a lot of the authors visiting for either or both the above cons were attending too.

So I've been on the go non stop for very nearly two weeks, not to mention the hurried costume-creation and book-sorting and room-booking beforehand.

Con-wise, I'm not a newbie anymore - among others, I've done DragonCon in Georgia the last seven years in a row (and will be sad to miss it this year) and did a lot of the smaller Showmasters cons back when Torchwood fandom was still alive. But I missed NineWorlds last year when it started, and I've never made it to Worldcon, so the individual characters and natures of these two were both new to me. I also usually hate interrupting, imposing, or generally initiating conversation with complete strangers who obviously have a hundred better things to do than talk to me, so I was a little nervous about it all.

NineWorlds first.

Con attendance: about 1700, I've heard.

Pre-con book count: 12

My con started early. I got the Megabus down to London (really not a bad way to travel cheap, especially if you book well in advance and mid-week) on Thursday, the day before NineWorlds started, read over 400 pages of Scott Lynch's Republic of Thieves on the coach down until I was dizzy and dazed when I had to work in reality again, and trekked with my little suitcase, backpack, and tote bag of books from King's Cross over to Heathrow. Outside Heathrow, about to tentatively get on a bus I hoped would take me to the right hotel, I spotted one of the other boarding passengers was wearing a Firefly t-shirt, as she spotted my NaNoWriMo shirt... So I took a deep breath, engaged Con Mode, and spoke to her. Turned out she'd been to NineWorlds the year before and knew the way, which bus stop to use, and how it all worked. We chatted, she led me in to registration, and I was and am endlessly grateful for the reassurance just when I needed it.

And thus NineWorlds started being awesome from the very beginning.

Registration was easy at that point - it being late in the evening (roadworks had delayed my bus/train combo journey so I was an hour later than expected) there was nobody queuing, but friendly faces waiting to welcome us anyway. And surprise goody bags were dished out with our con badges. I'm accustomed to the con booklet, the options of free samplers and advertising posters, and a nice lanyard, but I didn't expect to receive two full, gorgeous books just for turning up.

I think this is an accurate representation, but it's been two weeks now and I'm still dazed.

Other stuff in the bag included 5 "Awesome Cosplay!" tokens (an idea taken from Eastercon, they said), to be handed out to worthy cosplayers, with the note that if you acquired 15 or more you could claim a prize on the Sunday. This lifted my excitable cosplayer's heart in an instant, and had me going, "That's an awesome idea, why doesn't every con do that?"

Next to registration was a "Naming Desk", with a big pot of Sharpies of varying colours, where you wrote whatever name you wanted to wear for the weekend onto your badge, and could pick up extra helpful bits. There were pronoun badges - I seem to recall I saw "he/him", "she/her", "they/their", "zhe/hir" and a blank one to write any unrepresented preference on. I did the "why doesn't every con do that?" again at this point. And there were also "communication clips" - different colours to indicate different preferences. Blue meant "For whatever reason, I find initiating conversation difficult but am more than happy for you to talk to me" (though it wasn't quite phrased like that on some of the reminder posters dotted about the corridors, which I saw get altered during the con to draw closer to this definition). There was also yellow, for "If I already know you, you're welcome to talk to me", and red for "I don't want to/am not ready to talk to anyone right now".

I grabbed a blue and ran off to see what the late night welcome panels were like. And the blue clip came in handy almost immediately: I hadn't had a chance to cut my long silver wig into shape for Quicksilver cosplay yet, and when I slunk into the room, everyone was busily constructing things and chatting merrily among their friends, and I was overcome with that urge not to interrupt people busy with things much more important than my little problem. One of the women in charge of the get-together spotted me and my blue clip though, and came over to ask if she could help. And just like that, she got everything sorted, my wig was hacked down to a better length, and I got to be calm again.

I was BUSY.

On Friday, while dressed as a Vulcan, I made it to panels about editing, swordfight choreography for writers, mythology and fairytales, and "How To Write A Sex Scene" (heavens). Generally speaking, though, despite the pages of notes I took down, the panels themselves weren't Friday's highlights. Instead, I engaged Sociable!Lea as hard as possible and found myself talking to all sorts of people at all sorts of times (like the couple I ended up working with for the Sex Scene panel, and Andy the sweetheart in fabulous World of Warcraft armour), and even bumped into an old friend from the aforementioned Torchwood fandom, much to our mutual surprise and delight.

By the time the evening entertainment rolled around I had a lot of people to wave at and ask after specifics by sight, and a handful I could (and did) stop and talk to and lose an hour without noticing. I prowled the little dealers' hall (I'm used to DragonCon, so although it was varied and delightful and included at least three book stalls aside from the huge, magnificent, drool-worthy Forbidden Planet table all along the back wall, it still seemed small to me) extensively, chatted to vendors and attendees alike, complimented cosplay everywhere, bought books, got books signed (Jen Williams drew, or offered to draw, an adorable dragon in every copy of The Copper Promise brought to her, and Kate Griffin was sweet and seemed excited when I showed up with the very first book she had published some ten years ago, under a wholly different name), rocked out to a Queen tribute band, and danced my feet off at the 80s All-Cheese Disco. When I was leaving my accommodation the next morning, my host asked how Friday had been, and I found myself saying, with some surprise, that it was the best single day I'd had at a convention in years.

Saturday had a lot to live up to.

Panels included: writing Steampunk, creating fantasy languages (WOW, that one was intense! It was like the distilled version of a month long linguistics course, delivered at speed, with a side order of extra geek for the moments it touched on Klingon, Elvish, Circular Gallifreyan and others), and a "Beat Writer's Block" panel which was more like "Spark New Ideas" rather than "Finish Your Damn Story". I also got lots more books signed, including a couple for friends, hit up the dealers' hall some more (by which point I'd already got a reputation for book addiction at the Fox Spirit table), and found time to eat and read a little more of Republic of Thieves too.

All while dressed in full Quicksilver (with fixed wig, and the lovely lady who'd cut it did run in to me and see it in play, to her glee), belting "Time in a Bottle" from a hidden speaker (if you've seen Days of Future Past you'll understand why) and being stopped near constantly for photos and to be handed cosplay tokens. Even Elizabeth Bear gave me a cosplay token while I was getting her to sign books for me. So that was fun.

The evening entertainment for Saturday also included the Whedon singalong (I sat out for Once More With Feeling because I still haven't seen that episode yet). A couple of cosplayers who knew each other and were involved in the Whedon track were dressed as Doctor Horrible and Captain Hammer, so certain songs of that were acted out beautifully, too, right down to full on freezing in place for an entire song. That was well worth seeing.

And then there was the Queer Cabaret, which started off with poetry and music and comedy skits and built up to the most wonderful, lovely thing I feel privileged to have seen. I mean, really. It was just gorgeous. And the standing ovation was so well deserved.

Sunday morning, I dressed in hot pants and a safari shirt and a brown fedora, packed brown leather high heeled ankle boots into my day bag, and set off on the hour or so walk from accommodation to con. Ten minutes in, the heavens well and truly opened, and by the time I reached a point at which I could surrender and get a bus, I was soaked through, and my desperate attempts to shield my canvas bag with arms, hat, whatever (contents: card games! paperback book! notebook! business cards! paper programme!) were no longer stopping the torrent. By getting the bus, I did manage to guide two day-pass NineWorlders to the con, but it was too late for me. I had to stop by the loos to literally wring my clothes out a few times, switched shoes after drying my feet at the hand driers, and schlepped (coincidentally, also the noise I was making) over to the first panel I wanted - a repeat of a hugely popular one from the day before, a "Writing the Other" workshop with Stephanie Saulter.

So I sat there with all my stuff spread across table/floor/chairs to try and dry it out, and tried not to shiver too much while taking all my notes (notebook was shielded from the worst by the book, blessedly enclosed in plastic bag with remarkable foresight by my absent-minded self packing up that morning). I think I worried Stephanie a little. But it was still worth it! Discussion was interesting and insightful, and hopefully will be very useful for everything I'm continuing to write/edit at the moment/in the future. She was so good (and so nice) I went and bought her first book from the dealers' hall later on.

From there, though, I squelched down towards the steampunk room for a cool panel on "Female Characters in Steampunk", and ran into a couple of the friends I'd made, consistently running into one in writing panels, and generally talking to the other for hours non stop. They, lovely, lovely people, looked me up and down and went, "Our hotel room is a few doors down and there is a hairdryer. Come with us." Good move. I cannot recommend hairdryers highly enough for such moments. Although do try not to point them at any bag that contains chocolate or boiled sweets. I ended up dry and even passably warm before I dashed into steampunk, which is probably the reason I didn't end up exhausted and chilled and in danger of illness. That one, too, was worth it, since I then went off and bought Gail Carriger's book on the strength of her panel presence as well, especially since she was signing shortly after that, with Stephanie Saulter. I managed to fit in a quick trip to the info desk to turn in my stack of cosplay tokens for my prize, too, and immediately affixed the "Outstanding Cosplay!" badge to my shirt.

(Not pictured: the little bag of chocolate buttons also part of the prize, which were immediately devoured.)

I hit up one last writing panel on "How to Invent the Wheel", which was a very good discussion of how to consider the introduction of any technology (future, past, hypothetical) into your worldbuilding and properly deal with the consequences and the range of reactions. Fun stuff. And then I went and played some games for a little bit, to wind down before everything packed up and finished. I managed to squeeze in dinner when I ran into the lovely couple from the Sex Scene panel, and we decompressed a bit chatting together in the restaurant. Then, of course, I found a Cards Against Humanity game going on upstairs, shouldered my way in, and spent the next four or five hours there. Fortunately the wonderful hairdryer-lending people wandered in too, so I was able to give dry, grateful hugs before we parted ways.

One of the CAH players, who I'd run into a couple of times at various points throughout the weekend, persuaded me to stay another half an hour/hour or so when I declared time and got up, by offering me a lift back to my accommodation. Sunday, you see, exemplified NineWorlds, for me. It was full of wonderful, kind people, who were happy to help if they possibly could. It was a relaxed, happy crowd, occasionally vexed by hotel staff, full of praise for con staff, and excited, pleased, and welcoming for everyone else.

NineWorlds is possibly the single most friendly, inclusive con I've ever been to. More than inclusive, actually, but positive. Not queer or autistic or disabled or female or minority inclusive, queer/autistic/disabled/female/minority positive. It was a celebration of everyone who usually gets left out of things, a paean to difference, and uniqueness, and how simple it really can be to make things accessible and enjoyable for everyone. The gender neutral toilets on the third floor ("Toilets with urinals"/"Toilets with sanitary bins") and the variety of available pronoun badges instantly signified that this was a safe space for anyone not covered by binary gender. I saw panelists introduced with their name and preferred pronouns, attack ships on fire off the... wait, this has turned into something else. Better stop before it heads into all those cons, lost... like tears...

Anyway. Yes. NineWorlds. NineWorlds delighted me. It reminded me what my first few cons were like. All hope and joy and geeky excitement, with very little negativity around. I only hope it can maintain it as it continues and grows.

I could hardly bear to take off my lanyard. And I kept that Outstanding Cosplay badge on for another week.

Post-con book count: 26