I’m vending books at Worldcon. It’s my third con of the summer, following BayCon and Trek to Vegas. And I’ve been trying to figure out if this is something I want to make a regular part of my life… or something that ends up, ultimately, costing more in effort than it’s worth.
I love getting to connect directly with readers. The little chats I get to have with people over my table can be incredibly rewarding. It gets me in touch with what my readers respond to in a way nothing else does, and I always come away inspired.
Just this week, a little kid who was one of the first people ever to buy one of my books 15 years ago — he had no money, so he traded me a tail for Otters In Space — stopped by, looking like a whole adult now. It was amazing, experiencing such a full circle moment.
But it also feels like smearing my heart and soul across a big banner behind me, a table runner in front of me, and every book I’m selling… and then just waiting for people to react. That’s a lot to carry.
And while many reactions are delightful, some are downright unpleasant.
If I’m feeling good, I’m pretty resistant to the slings and arrows of indifference and occasional outright cruelty. But travel and dealing with cons often leaves me feeling rundown, physically worn out… and then I’m much more brittle. Wearing the necessary smile becomes harder.
And looking around at these conventions, it’s very clear that being an author is being engaged in an escalating arms race for attention. Even with my 2ft-tall, brightly colored, customized action figures of my own characters, I can tell that I’m barely staying ahead of the curve.
The common refrain at furry conventions among booksellers was always that book tables do better next to other book tables. The people running the convention might think you’re competitors, but you’re actually co-workers, trying to get people matched with the right book.
And even at Worldcon, where there are soooo many booksellers as opposed to maybe two or three, I can very much see that my readers are my readers, regardless of whatever else is out there, and other authors clearly have their readers who wouldn’t be so interested in my table.
The question I keep trying to answer changes exact shape and form, depending on the day…
Would I do this if I could come up with a different option?
I tried attending panels for years. Then being on panels. Now I’m trying dealing. And maybe cons just aren’t for me.
At some level, I’m chasing a sense of community, something I’ve mostly lost over the last few years.
But sometimes, it seems better to give up on community. Withdraw into everyday life, write my stories, and send them into the world without chasing after to see who they reach.