Just got back from the local science fiction / fantasy / horror literary conference, Confluence — as a fan / reader, obviously, and as an aspiring something-or-other, I suppose. The event continues — it’s a 3-day conference — but since I didn’t know what to expect or whether I’d be wildly out of my depth, I just went for most of one day.
And I had a great time. Attended some panels, watched some concerts, shopped in the dealers’ room:
More print books than I’ve bought in the last two, maybe three years combined. Feminist SF anthologies, solarpunk short stories, Things I’ve Heard About A Lot But Haven’t Gotten Around To, a nonfiction book my spouse handed me with a comment like “this looks like it would be up your alley” (it’s the plague one), another nonfiction book, and a writing prompt workbook from a local literary organization. Oh, and a cute little resin dragon figurine, one of two we picked up there. (Chibiterasu already lives here. The other dragon went on our Nerd Wall in the dining room.)
A quick jaunt, all things considered, but thought-provoking and interesting. For as long as I’ve been writing and as much as I love it, talking about it has almost always been an online-only phenomenon for me. Social anxiety is a huge part of the reason, of course. But that’s one of the things I wanted to test today: observing and soaking in some atmosphere without having to talk much with anyone. And because books and/or writing are things I could listen to people talk about literally all day, the fascination outweighs the fear.
We’ll see what the next steps are and how those feel. I’m glad I tried it out. My TBR pile will feel it, but hey. Worth it.