I don’t attend many science-fiction/fantasy conventions
these days. Pre-pandemic, I often attended conventions on the West Coast,
including Orycon in Portland, Oregon. I’d add a day or two on each end of the
convention dates to get in a visit with my best friend from college and a dear
writer friend. Ditto going south to Loscon in Los Angeles or Condor in San
Diego, or larger conventions like World Fantasy or SFWA’s Nebula Awards weekend
when they’re held on the West Coast. Sadly, both friends have died, so even
before the pandemic, I found it harder to fly north. Orycon has closed, and I
believe that Condor has, too. Nevertheless, I always try to make it to my local
con, Baycon/Westercon. It’s within driving distance, although a bit far to
commute, and it’s a vibrant, diverse community.
When I attend a convention, I do so as a professional
author, so I almost always appear on panels, readings, and autographing
sessions. Some conventions request that potential guests submit proposals for
events. If panel topics are accepted, the guest then moderates them. This was
the case for 3 of the 6 panels I appeared on (* = I proposed and moderated this
panel). Here are descriptions, with a few notes on how the discussions
unfolded. With only one exception, I have avoided using the names of panelists
and audience members. All the opinions are my own!
The Reality of Fiction. We normally think of fiction
as unreal, but quite a few authors talk regularly with their fictional
characters about the story and where it should head. How does this work? How
can knowing some of the psychology involved give us a livelier relationship
with fictional characters? What wisdom for life might they impart when listened
to?
I arrived a bit early, as is my custom, to find the
panelists wondering who the moderator was and expressing their unwillingness to
do it. “Okay,” sez I, “I’ll do it.” Therein followed a fascinating divergence
between the tired, perennial question, “What to do when your characters won’t
behave the way you want them to?” and how much your characters reflect
yourself—is this a good thing or a bad thing?--versus my personal focus, “Where
is the energy in the story? Character (Hamlet), plot (thrillers), ideas
(mysteries)…and how difficulties with characters arise from mismatches between
different elements.
*Writing our Nightmares. What horror, dark fantasy, and related genres
can teach us about surviving personal and political catastrophes.
The idea for this
panel arose from two incidents: Octavia Butler told me that she took the things
that really scared her and put them on paper; in a horror panel many years ago,
when I said I had enough nightmares in my life, the other panelists showed me
how horror can shine a light in the darkest places. As writers, we have agency;
as readers, we trust that the protagonist, no matter how vulnerable, has or
gains power over their fate.
We talked about
having lost many traditional methods of dealing with trauma, so horror as a
genre offers catharsis via the story journey; the end is different from the
setup. “Horror is safer than memories.”
Finally, the
zinger trope: “Play nice or I’ll put you in my novel” (and you won’t come out
unscathed)!
*Finding Our Tribe. Writers, readers, and fans share how storytelling creates communities
of understanding, acceptance, and celebration of differences. From fandom as
family to writing as a way of healing, stories transcend the fear and prejudice
of our times.
My thought in proposing it was to celebrate how the
science fiction/fandom community welcomes and celebrates those who feel they
don’t fit in anywhere else. This could be folks “on the spectrum” (of autism),
sexual and gender minorities, racial and ethnic minorities, geeks of all
flavors, and so forth. Everyone in the room had a version of a “finding my home
here” story.
The second aspect was ethnic or ancestral communities. I
was fortunate to run into one of my favorite co-panelists, an Indigenous elder,
and invite him to participate in the panel. He brought the perspective of
tribal membership being integral to identity, the history of
near-extermination, and the separation he experiences between his role as elder
and teacher, and his love for science fiction not shared with fellow members of
his tribe. He helped us to understand the difference between tribal and tribalism.
Tribal affiliation nourishes community and deep understanding of collective
history. Tribalism creates a distinct "in-group" (those we identify
with) and an "out-group" (everyone else).
Three of us were Jewish, and the only thing we agreed on was
that we don’t agree on anything except being Jewish (“two Jews, three
opinions,” more like “twenty-five opinions with footnotes and appendices
spanning 2,000 years of commentary.” You can join if you’re willing to study
hard for a year and pass a board examination. Otherwise, “Are you nuts?”) Much
laughter ensued.
