BayCon 2012 report
May. 31st, 2012 04:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deborahjrossThis year's BayCon was one of the best regional conventions I've attended in recent years. This is not to say that every aspect ran perfectly, but that the programming -- the panel topics, the chemistry between the panelists, and the lively response of the audiences -- was exceptional. This is, of course, my own very personal opinion, so here's what the weekend was like for me:
Friday began with "Growing Artistically Through Crisis," which was scheduled right after opening ceremonies. The sole other panelist was a musician/composer named Angelena Kyzar, lovely and articulate. We had a wonderful conversation, sharing stories, talking about how our creative endeavors help us to survive personal crises, but also how we can use what we have experienced and grown through in order to enrich our art.
Next up -- literally next, because I had 3 back-to-back panels (I told you it wasn't perfect) was "Ghostwriting" (meaning continuing the series of a deceased author), with Diana L. Paxson, Brandon Sanderson (the GoH, who finished Robert Jordan's "Wheel of Time" series) and Kevin Andrew Murphy (worked on Jo Clayton's "Drums" trilogy). Diana and I have done the "Worlds of Marion Zimmer Bradley" discussion a number of times before, but we learn more each time we compare notes. Brandon was new to me, and so it was fun hearing his own adventures. I've known Kevin for years through convention-dom, and I'd heard a little of his story working with Jo, but not about how he came to write in the "Wild Cards" shared world series. Interestingly, all of us except Kevin were established writers with track records; Kevin's entry was via his phenomenal memory for details, keeping the minutiae of "canon" straight, a priceless contribution to a series that spans volumes and many authors. We talked about the usual, How did you get to do this, How writing in an established world is like writing historical fiction, How to reconcile your own and the deceased writer's voices, and how you handle it when you feel the story needs to go in another direction.
My third panel on Friday was "Young Adult Fiction: More Than Blanking-out the Sex" with Diana, Clare Bell, and Ann Finnin. Clare has a YA series featuring large Miocene cats (originally from Atheneum, now reprinted) and Ann's YA, just out, is "Harry Potter in Medieval France." Both look well worth checking out. We quickly agreed that YA is not about eliminating sex, but does have to do with issues of leaving childhood and forging an individual, adult identity. I came away thinking that YA as it is currently marketed is an unnecessarily narrow category, with lots of adults enjoying these stories, and lots of young people reading adult stories (or, even more confusingly, stories with teen characters that are labeled adult fiction). I'm still scratching my literary head over the distinctions. Maybe it has to do with the font size.
Saturday was Dave's day for panels, which was lovely because I made him drive, and both of us got to hang out with some very cool people. Speaking of which, my morning schedule began with "Location...Setting your Story in a Science Fiction World" with Clare, Chaz Brenchley, and T.S. Luikart, who is a sort of uber-game designer/writer, and won the weirdest-world contest hands-down (sorry, I didn't write it down -- it sprained my brain). I advanced the suggestion that if you're going to set your story in outer space, you might benefit from looking at what we already know about people and habitats in space, and your tax dollars at work have made many wonderful publications from NASA available (for instance, The Psychology of Space Travel, which you can download free). Chaz came up with a brilliant observation, not strictly a propos of sfnal worlds, but on stories in general: "All fiction is about betrayal."
Then I got to sit and bask in spousal glory at Dave's panel on "The Internet - the Next Television Network," which is ironic since he has not watched television in decades. He does, however, have thoughtful things to say about the paradigm shifts (my words, not his) that happen when you uncouple programs from both time and the necessity of sitting through advertisements. He and everyone else said a great many wonderful things, but I failed to take notes. It was lovely just to listen. About this time, I think, we noticed how well attended all the panels were. You know that sinking feeling, especially very early or very late in a con, when panelists outnumber audience? Not here!
If memory serves, we then decamped to lunch with friends, which is a good place to mention hotel food. One of the drawbacks of this site (Hyatt Santa Clara), like many other convention hotels, is that you're basically stuck with the hotel restaurant or you can walk across the way and eat in the Hilton's restaurant, which is pretty much the same thing. Or you can get in a car and drive places and pray to St. Pancras, patron saint of parking places, that there will be a spot for you upon your return. But they did a pretty good job, and the waiters were all wearing badge ribbons and having a great time. They said they look forward to BayCon all year, so how could we object?
Then came the Book View Café panel. It was pretty amazing how many of us were at the convention: me, Dave, Phyllis Irene Radford, Chaz Brenchley, and Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff. Various combinations of us had done similar panels before, but it was lovely to all be in the same physical place (as opposed to the same virtual place). I was also struck by how well-attended the panel was, and the questions which did NOT repeat, "What are you and will you publish my book?" We talked about history, about the mentoring system, about organic process, decisions by consultation/consensus, and peers working together in a gift economy (that is, we offer one another tech skills like formatting and cover design, beta reading and book editing, copy editing and proofreading, not to mention world-of-mouth signal boosting, but not everyone has the same needs and skills, and no one gets paid -- it all works out somehow, like the line in Shakespeare In Love, "It's a miracle.")
My last panel was on modern retelling of fairy tales, a follow-on to an earlier panel (which I did not attend) on what those are (fairy tales, folk tales, myths, legends, etc.) This panel taught me a couple of invaluable lessons. First, there were NINE people scheduled to be on it. Note to self: When faced with a similar situation, take heed and gracefully bow out. Second, I was already tired, as it was my 6th panel in 2 days. Note to self: Be gentle, make allowances for fatigue, and when in doubt, smile and nod thoughtfully - do NOT try to get a word in edgewise when there are 8 (actually, 6) other people far more lively than you. Still it was a fascinating discussion, if a bit television-centered for me. (I don't watch television, although I do catch up on series that friends and my kids turn me on to, so much to my amazement, I'd actually heard of a few, like The Tenth Kingdom.) One of the most interesting comments was from Lon Sarver (of Forbidden Fiction), who pointed out that the vast, ancient (and dangerous) forests of Europe persist as psychological shadows in the stories of that region. When he said that, I got shivers, and I suspect the idea will find its way into at least one story in the future.
On Sunday, I was on my own again. Driving-wise, but not panel-wise, because my one and only panel was "The Evolution of Female Characters in SF," moderated by my writing pal, Juliette Wade (with Brandon Sanderson, Diana L. Paxson, and Veronica Belmont). I got to tell the story of the cover painting for Jaydium: in one scene, my heroine is (a) naked; (b) being approached by a giant silver slug. I thought, That's what will end up on the cover, and none of my women friends will ever speak to me again; instead I got a highly phallic space ship. The audience totally laughed. In other news, I hadn't heard the concept of "Marked" -- male is default, so to indicate female, you have to change something, to "mark" it. Interestingly, in biology, it's the other way: we're all female as embryos, and then males are the ones who diverge.
I caught part of the panel on "Alternate Lifestyles in SF" (given how many panels I was on, it was such a treat to sit and listen to others holding forth). Alas for me, who does not care in the least for Heinlein (and thinks he was totally clueless about women characters), much of the panel was taken up by discussing his work. (And Marion Zimmer Bradley was not mentioned once while I was there -- not The Shattered Chain and sequels, The Heritage of Hastur, The World Wreckers, or The Catch Trap, not to mention The Mists of Avalon. I feel sad about how quickly her pioneering work has been forgotten, but perhaps I'm overly sensitive.) Still, it was a good and lively panel, with meaty discussion, well worth attending.
Sunday night was a special treat: a sitar concert and demonstration by Cliff Winnig. As the father of almost-newborn twins, he has astonishing focus and energy. He played part of a traditional raga, as well as several of his own compositions. It's hard to encapsulate how fresh, exotic, and yet highly accessible (and humorous) his music is -- perhaps "jazz sitar" says it all?
Monday proved to be the "dud" of panel days. Despite what should have been a popular subject ("Authors: Stop Blocking Your Potential") and the GoH as panelist, the room was dark (and it took us a quarter hour to get someone to turn the lights on), the sign had not been changed since yesterday, and only one other panelist (Tony Todaro of Greater Los Angeles Writers Assn) showed up. We chatted for a while, then I headed off to visit with a friend on "the other side of the hill." All in all, though, it was a rich and rewarding convention, and if the volunteer staff were a bit fried on Monday morning, I can't blame them. If they do half so well next year, it will be well worth attending.
Friday began with "Growing Artistically Through Crisis," which was scheduled right after opening ceremonies. The sole other panelist was a musician/composer named Angelena Kyzar, lovely and articulate. We had a wonderful conversation, sharing stories, talking about how our creative endeavors help us to survive personal crises, but also how we can use what we have experienced and grown through in order to enrich our art.
Next up -- literally next, because I had 3 back-to-back panels (I told you it wasn't perfect) was "Ghostwriting" (meaning continuing the series of a deceased author), with Diana L. Paxson, Brandon Sanderson (the GoH, who finished Robert Jordan's "Wheel of Time" series) and Kevin Andrew Murphy (worked on Jo Clayton's "Drums" trilogy). Diana and I have done the "Worlds of Marion Zimmer Bradley" discussion a number of times before, but we learn more each time we compare notes. Brandon was new to me, and so it was fun hearing his own adventures. I've known Kevin for years through convention-dom, and I'd heard a little of his story working with Jo, but not about how he came to write in the "Wild Cards" shared world series. Interestingly, all of us except Kevin were established writers with track records; Kevin's entry was via his phenomenal memory for details, keeping the minutiae of "canon" straight, a priceless contribution to a series that spans volumes and many authors. We talked about the usual, How did you get to do this, How writing in an established world is like writing historical fiction, How to reconcile your own and the deceased writer's voices, and how you handle it when you feel the story needs to go in another direction.
My third panel on Friday was "Young Adult Fiction: More Than Blanking-out the Sex" with Diana, Clare Bell, and Ann Finnin. Clare has a YA series featuring large Miocene cats (originally from Atheneum, now reprinted) and Ann's YA, just out, is "Harry Potter in Medieval France." Both look well worth checking out. We quickly agreed that YA is not about eliminating sex, but does have to do with issues of leaving childhood and forging an individual, adult identity. I came away thinking that YA as it is currently marketed is an unnecessarily narrow category, with lots of adults enjoying these stories, and lots of young people reading adult stories (or, even more confusingly, stories with teen characters that are labeled adult fiction). I'm still scratching my literary head over the distinctions. Maybe it has to do with the font size.
Saturday was Dave's day for panels, which was lovely because I made him drive, and both of us got to hang out with some very cool people. Speaking of which, my morning schedule began with "Location...Setting your Story in a Science Fiction World" with Clare, Chaz Brenchley, and T.S. Luikart, who is a sort of uber-game designer/writer, and won the weirdest-world contest hands-down (sorry, I didn't write it down -- it sprained my brain). I advanced the suggestion that if you're going to set your story in outer space, you might benefit from looking at what we already know about people and habitats in space, and your tax dollars at work have made many wonderful publications from NASA available (for instance, The Psychology of Space Travel, which you can download free). Chaz came up with a brilliant observation, not strictly a propos of sfnal worlds, but on stories in general: "All fiction is about betrayal."
Then I got to sit and bask in spousal glory at Dave's panel on "The Internet - the Next Television Network," which is ironic since he has not watched television in decades. He does, however, have thoughtful things to say about the paradigm shifts (my words, not his) that happen when you uncouple programs from both time and the necessity of sitting through advertisements. He and everyone else said a great many wonderful things, but I failed to take notes. It was lovely just to listen. About this time, I think, we noticed how well attended all the panels were. You know that sinking feeling, especially very early or very late in a con, when panelists outnumber audience? Not here!
If memory serves, we then decamped to lunch with friends, which is a good place to mention hotel food. One of the drawbacks of this site (Hyatt Santa Clara), like many other convention hotels, is that you're basically stuck with the hotel restaurant or you can walk across the way and eat in the Hilton's restaurant, which is pretty much the same thing. Or you can get in a car and drive places and pray to St. Pancras, patron saint of parking places, that there will be a spot for you upon your return. But they did a pretty good job, and the waiters were all wearing badge ribbons and having a great time. They said they look forward to BayCon all year, so how could we object?
Then came the Book View Café panel. It was pretty amazing how many of us were at the convention: me, Dave, Phyllis Irene Radford, Chaz Brenchley, and Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff. Various combinations of us had done similar panels before, but it was lovely to all be in the same physical place (as opposed to the same virtual place). I was also struck by how well-attended the panel was, and the questions which did NOT repeat, "What are you and will you publish my book?" We talked about history, about the mentoring system, about organic process, decisions by consultation/consensus, and peers working together in a gift economy (that is, we offer one another tech skills like formatting and cover design, beta reading and book editing, copy editing and proofreading, not to mention world-of-mouth signal boosting, but not everyone has the same needs and skills, and no one gets paid -- it all works out somehow, like the line in Shakespeare In Love, "It's a miracle.")
My last panel was on modern retelling of fairy tales, a follow-on to an earlier panel (which I did not attend) on what those are (fairy tales, folk tales, myths, legends, etc.) This panel taught me a couple of invaluable lessons. First, there were NINE people scheduled to be on it. Note to self: When faced with a similar situation, take heed and gracefully bow out. Second, I was already tired, as it was my 6th panel in 2 days. Note to self: Be gentle, make allowances for fatigue, and when in doubt, smile and nod thoughtfully - do NOT try to get a word in edgewise when there are 8 (actually, 6) other people far more lively than you. Still it was a fascinating discussion, if a bit television-centered for me. (I don't watch television, although I do catch up on series that friends and my kids turn me on to, so much to my amazement, I'd actually heard of a few, like The Tenth Kingdom.) One of the most interesting comments was from Lon Sarver (of Forbidden Fiction), who pointed out that the vast, ancient (and dangerous) forests of Europe persist as psychological shadows in the stories of that region. When he said that, I got shivers, and I suspect the idea will find its way into at least one story in the future.
On Sunday, I was on my own again. Driving-wise, but not panel-wise, because my one and only panel was "The Evolution of Female Characters in SF," moderated by my writing pal, Juliette Wade (with Brandon Sanderson, Diana L. Paxson, and Veronica Belmont). I got to tell the story of the cover painting for Jaydium: in one scene, my heroine is (a) naked; (b) being approached by a giant silver slug. I thought, That's what will end up on the cover, and none of my women friends will ever speak to me again; instead I got a highly phallic space ship. The audience totally laughed. In other news, I hadn't heard the concept of "Marked" -- male is default, so to indicate female, you have to change something, to "mark" it. Interestingly, in biology, it's the other way: we're all female as embryos, and then males are the ones who diverge.
I caught part of the panel on "Alternate Lifestyles in SF" (given how many panels I was on, it was such a treat to sit and listen to others holding forth). Alas for me, who does not care in the least for Heinlein (and thinks he was totally clueless about women characters), much of the panel was taken up by discussing his work. (And Marion Zimmer Bradley was not mentioned once while I was there -- not The Shattered Chain and sequels, The Heritage of Hastur, The World Wreckers, or The Catch Trap, not to mention The Mists of Avalon. I feel sad about how quickly her pioneering work has been forgotten, but perhaps I'm overly sensitive.) Still, it was a good and lively panel, with meaty discussion, well worth attending.
Sunday night was a special treat: a sitar concert and demonstration by Cliff Winnig. As the father of almost-newborn twins, he has astonishing focus and energy. He played part of a traditional raga, as well as several of his own compositions. It's hard to encapsulate how fresh, exotic, and yet highly accessible (and humorous) his music is -- perhaps "jazz sitar" says it all?
Monday proved to be the "dud" of panel days. Despite what should have been a popular subject ("Authors: Stop Blocking Your Potential") and the GoH as panelist, the room was dark (and it took us a quarter hour to get someone to turn the lights on), the sign had not been changed since yesterday, and only one other panelist (Tony Todaro of Greater Los Angeles Writers Assn) showed up. We chatted for a while, then I headed off to visit with a friend on "the other side of the hill." All in all, though, it was a rich and rewarding convention, and if the volunteer staff were a bit fried on Monday morning, I can't blame them. If they do half so well next year, it will be well worth attending.
