My friend and I attended FanX this year. It was our first time. There were rooms filled with cosplayers, a massive vendor hall, and tons of celebrities (my favorite was Henry Winkler, who stood in front of his signing table shaking hands and hugging visitors). But at some point, wandering around staring at people and spending money got tiresome, so we attended a presentation. Something Star Wars related, he’s a big fan of the franchise.

When we sat down, he was on the edge of his seat. Sat up, attentive, and eager to learn. I was slouched in my chair. About ten minutes into the presentation his stance slackened. By half an hour he was holding his head up with his hands.

Then I pieced together what was happening.

This was his first conference. He had come expecting a content dense presentation, an action-packed lecture stuffed to the brim with anecdotes and stories from the extended universe. What he got was plodding, a gently paced lecture suited for resting rather than for learning. My friend was operating at a different time scale. The wrong time scale.

I couldn’t blame him, when I attended my first writer’s conference I had to make the same adjustment. When we’re young, schools are our conferences. Conferences where every minute is tracked and recorded, where learning is expected, and where education has no choice but to run at a breakneck pace. Your average presenter isn’t like that. They take their time, lose track of their thoughts, answer audience questions, and take the scenic route.There’s no test at the end of the lesson and the presenters aren’t trained educators. 

I didn’t recognize it until that moment with my friend at the Star Wars presentation, but time at conferences is slower. And to have a good time, you have to slow down with it.`

Appreciating the Present

My expectations for my first Writer’s Conference were way too high, and way too self-centered. I was hunting for the ‘most’ educational classes, searching for subjects that would maximize my education. Truth is, if your entire goal is to sponge up information on a subject, five hours on youtube watching carefully edited videos will deliver way more reliably than a conference. That’s not what conferences are for.

Conferences are for being present. They’re for stopping, looking around, and finding yourself surrounded by like-minded people from a million different backgrounds. They’re for conversation with your peers, sharing your experiences and learning from others. The poorly-kept secret of conferences is that the best event of every conference takes place after it ends, Bar Con. Having a couple drinks and conversation with someone you’ve never met with a similar interest often teaches you more than any presentation could ever hope to. 

This isn’t to say I don’t attend classes, nor do I ignore the content of the lectures, it’s a major consideration, but it isn’t the only consideration. Going down the calendar of a conference, I search for presentations from people I look up to, friends I’m there to support, or experts far above my level. And every one of these presentations gives me something different. 

From those who are a few years ahead of me in my career, I pick up advice for my immediate future. From friends, I take tips on how to give engaging presentations of my own. And from experts, I discover just how much I still don’t know. Even if the content of the presentation isn’t tuned to my skill-level or interests, the person giving the presentation still brings their own perspective to the world, and that new angle is always worth seeing.

In short, being present at a conference means seeing the people around you and hearing what they have to say. We spend so much of our lives focussed on ourselves, there’s something healing in listening to others.

Maximize Your Enjoyment, Not Your Day

I don’t fill my schedule. There may be classes from 10am to 7pm, but chances are I’ll only attend 2/3rds of those. The second you find yourself rushing from class to class, you’re missing the point of the conference. Often after a class, I find myself in a conversation with a peer, or maybe run into someone sitting on a couch in the hotel hallway, and that conversation will last as long as a class. Sometimes a group of us leave the event to get a long lunch. We’ve left the conference, but it’s those moments of spontaneity that stand out in my memory.

When I’m tired, I take a nap. When I’m hungry, I get lunch. When I’m tired of seeing hundreds of people, I find somewhere quiet and work on a project of my own.

Slowing down means being aware of yourself. No one’s getting grades for their attendance. You could spend the whole event sitting on a couch chatting with anybody passing by and you’re still enjoying the conference. Just because there’s a schedule doesn’t mean you need to shape yourself around it.

It Takes Practice

I’ve found a lot of people don’t enjoy their first conference. By the end, they’re underwhelmed by the lecture content, overwhelmed by the crowds, or just plain lost. Inaccurate expectations and self-imposed pressures make a conference something it isn’t.

Then they attend a second time. There’s a few more familiar faces, they skip a couple classes, and they go to bar con. By their third conference, they love it.

I think my friend would enjoy FanX a lot more the second time around. We’d show up in costume, learn technique from the other cosplayers, spend a while chatting with friends, and when we attend a presentation, slouch a little in our chairs.