There's always an odd feeling when I awake in a hotel room on the final morn of a multi-day convention. I have to start packing; ergo, it feels like the con is over. But shortly I will go over to the hall where the convention is really only two-thirds over and I'll host three panels, almost back-to-back. So there's still a lot to do.
I have been going to comic book conventions (and occasionally, science-fiction or film conventions) for close to 45 years now. My first was the July 4th weekend of 1970 in New York and later that year, I attended the first edition of what we now call Comic-Con International, AKA "The San Diego Con." In the seventies and eighties, I probably averaged five conventions a year not counting the little one-day local ones that were mostly for dealers. I do not even want to guess how many panels I've done but the last decade or so, I've averaged 13 at each Comic-Con. I have been to great conventions and terrible conventions and a few where I was so numb from jetlag and loss of sleep, I never found out if I had a good time or not.
In the last few years, I've done fewer and fewer, declining most invites. The "business model" (that's not quite the proper term) for guests is that they bring us in and give us a table and we sell stuff to make it worth our while to be there. Some professional-type folks make a large part of their livings that way and I think that's great, but it doesn't really work for me. I have very little to sell and an aversion to selling it myself.
I usually have very little business to conduct with publishers and editors — here at WonderCon this year, I've had none — so I really just come to see friends and I do enjoy hosting panels. The Cartoon Voices one yesterday was especially good — because of the panelists, not because of me.
One thing I do enjoy about a convention such as this is the mood and the excitement: There are so many people having a good time, often in participatory ways. Years ago, I read a long article called something like "The Joy of Disneyland" about how one of the things folks most enjoyed about being there was the sheer joy of being there. Rides and attractions aside, there was a fundamental delight in merely being in The Happiest Place on Earth…or one of The Happiest Places on Earth.
There's something delightful about being in a place like WonderCon and much of it flows from the attendees entertaining each other, and all the exhibitors feel like us, not them. At Disneyland, we're entertained by them; by a mega-profitable corporation that always seems to be manipulating us to buy another overpriced Goofy t-shirt or Mulan hat. With a few exceptions, the vendors here at WonderCon don't have that kind of power over us. Most feel like friends or creative folks offering what they've created. And except when they stage photo-ops right where I need to walk, I really like the cosplayers…with, of course, a few exceptions.
I usually go home from one of these cons feeling weary from the walkin' n' talkin' but nourished in a very real way by being around so many creative and happy people. Deadlines on one project necessitated that I spend some of my con time in this hotel room working on this here laptop…but even then, I felt connected. My window looks down on where the cosplayers mingle and I could also see attendees happily carting off their acquisitions. I like being here. Which is not to say I also won't like being back at my full-size keyboard later today and after that, sleeping in my own bed.
What I guess I'm getting at is that it feels good to be here and good to go home. I'll see you later today…at the full-size keyboard.