At WorldCon, I got to meet up with one of my Clarion Classmates, Kodiak Julian, who asked me, “What’s it like, attending a convention like this, now that you’re this successful, published author, I mean with multiple books and everything?”
I wanted to say it wasn’t different at all from NOT being a successful, published author. I wanted to say it was everything she hoped it would be. Being me, what I really wanted was to check the evidence before I committed to an answer.
How did the past few days feel different from, say, my first WorldCon?
My first WorldCon was in San Jose in 2018. I’d started going to science fiction conventions more regularly, in the hopes it would help me secure an agent. My very first conventions were nerve-wracking affairs of hanging out by the wall of the hotel lobby praying someone would take pity and talk to me… but then I met Arley Sorg at WisCon, and then I went to the Nebulas in Pittsburgh, and those two positive expriences had me thinking I could totally do this conventioneering thing.
Since my aunt lived in San Jose, I decided WorldCon was affordable, and it would be an excuse to visit my auntie! My friend Nyla came with me, and we stayed at Aunt Jean’s house. Definitely recommend the Auntie BnB – she made us breakfast every morning!
I didn’t blog about it at all! I wrote about it in my journals, however. I was anxious about meeting people, floored by how huge the place was. I was so grateful I had Nyla with me to avoid the fear of not knowing anyone, and I was going to be meeting up with five members of my Clarion class, so much of the start of the convention was taken up with finding them.
There was a SFWA Suite at the convention, where I met my buddy Louis. We talked for HOURS, and now I’m eager to see him whenever we’re in the same zip code. (Louis and I hung out this year at the Authors Against Book Bans table.)
I also drank more SFWA Suite alcohol than I paid in yearly dues, largely thanks to whoever donated the two bottles of single malt scotch, and all the fools going for the vodka instead.
In my journal notes, I was hungry for knowledge about places to submit novels, mentorship, and agents. I remark with misery being unable to match with a mentor in SFWA’s mentorship program because they had significantly more mentees sign up than mentors. I remark smugly about my strategy of showing up to the Kaffeklasch (intimate author table talk) with the fewest people signed up for it. I got to meet D.A. Xiaolin Spires and to my surprise, she recognized me from the online Codex forum.
Where was I, professionally? I’d had 26 short stories published for pro-rates at that point, and I got an acceptance letter WHILE I was at WorldCon. I was growing used to short story success. I recall running into an online acquaintance, a fellow writer, who said, “Wow, you’ve really had a lot of story sales recently! Is it seven this year?” and I responded, “Yes! It’s amazing!”
She blinked. “Huh, it’s refreshing to hear someone actually celebrate the wins. I was expecting you to tell me it was no big deal, or why it didn’t matter.”
I felt like I’d passed a life test, because I hadn’t even thought about downplaying, but inside I was still harboring some frustrations: why couldn’t I sell a novel? Why couldn’t I get on panels? My buddy Mike had one video game writing credit to his name and HE got on five panels!
(That frustration turned to incandescent rage when I attended the “Working Class Science Fiction” panel where the five middle aged white men on the panel each announced that while they weren’t working-class themselves, their grandparents were. I, with my legitimate having-been-born-working-class-ness, had specifically applied to be on that panel! I wanted to chew the back of my chair.)
(If you want t find out how I learned to get on panels, there’s a blog entry for that.)
Okay, so joy, frustration… How was that different from Seattle in 2025?
Being on panels is a highpoint of my convention experience. I get to talk about things I’m passionate about, and sometimes I’m even witty! Also, I know for a fact that being on panels sells books, because people have told me they bought my book after seeing me on panels.
This is not to say that San Jose 2018 wasn’t also joyful. In some ways, I’ll never be able to capture the WONDER of being new to WorldCons, the shock of how BIG the dealer’s room was, the delight of meeting exceptional people like D.A Xiaolin Spires, Louis Evans, and Meg Ellison for the first time.
Since every WorldCon is in a new city with a new staff and theme, every one is a brand-new experience. This was also my first WorldCon on staff! I was very excited to wear my little vest and headset and go looking for trouble. In some ways, this meant I spent LESS time on panels or meeting new people… weirdly I was quite alone as I walked the floors taking complaints and finding lost items. I suppose because I was representing the convention, not myself, this colored how people interacted with me. Not that I mind! I just… gosh I’d have liked more long conversations with strangers.
I made a blouse for this convention. Wow, that makes this my first time doing that? As an SCAdian who used to make new garb for every SCA event it low-key blows my mind that I’ve been to so many conventions without making a costume for any of them. I suppose the competition from Cosplayers is intimidating compared to the simplicity of a medieval gown. (NB: I did cosplay, once, as Pearl from Steven Universe, but it was a thrift-store mashup that involved minimal sewing.)
A fellow Codexian had purchased the limited-edition Convention Fabric (they had convention fabric! What a great idea) and wasn’t able to attend. She offered her two just-under-one-yard swatches to anyone who promised to actually make something. I was the fastest. I made this blouse and matching head scarf:
So that was all NEW, but has nothing to do with being Big Successful Reasie. Most of the basics were the same: Meeting people and meeting up with old friends were still the top priorities. Now, as then, I spent a lot of time studying faces on escalators, looking for anyone I recognized – and having some awkward “hi yes I was staring at you sorry no reason” interactions.
Now, as then, I approached people I recognized only to get a cold shoulder with hints of “go away you plebe we don’t know each other just because you attended my panel or bought my book.”
… I really hate those. I hope I never give that vibe to anyone, even as I know it’s probably also just “I am tired and out of peopling energy please go away.”
Most of the time I’m not the big, successful author: I’m a face in the crowd.
But here’s what IS different: I’ve sold over 90 short stories now, and five novels to small presses. I’ve been on panels for WorldCons before. I still felt a little anxious that they wouldn’t take me this year, but they did. Yes, 90% of the time I’m a face in the crowd that people are uninterested in because I’m not their friend, but 10% of the time, I’m in a situation where I can introduce myself as an expert, and 1% of the time, ever since ChiCon in 2022 – someone I don’t even know recognizes me as “Hey, aren’t you The Author, Marie Vibbert?”
Here’s what that’s like:
At the end of the panel on Mathematics in Science Fiction, a man came up with a bag and asked if I could sign some things. He produced a stack of Analog magazines, each with a post-it note marking the first page of one of my stories. I had been low-key feeling imposter syndrome for being ON the math panel with actual mathematicians, and he was a relief, a guaranteed “I do belong here” moment. I gushed the whole time I signed. “OMG you have Butterflies on Barbed Wire! That was my first Analog story! Wow, you even got the poems?!”
Then he left, perhaps to go find other people to sign his magazines, and I realized I should really get up from my spot on the panelist table so the next panel could come in. People were still talking to my fellow-panelists as I quietly slipped out.
A lovely young woman approached me after another panel to say she really enjoyed my “Art of Finishing” class on Reach Your Apex. I tried desperately to remember if I’d met her before. Her awkward expression implied she could tell I was thinking exactly that. I tried to cover it up by thanking her effusively, and then we parted ways awkwardly.
One of the three times I stopped by my portrait in the photo exhibit by Richard Man, someone was actually there so I could awkwardly shout, “That’s me!” and run away. This was better than the four times I stopped by Larry Smith Booksellers to sign my books hoping someone noticed me doing so. No one did. I sure hope they sold some copies of my works, though. I told everyone I could they were there, but swinging by on my staff patrols did not give me any idea if there were fewer of the books on the shelf.
… that’s it. That’s all the interactions that involved me being a successful writer. Well, there’s more… the subtle ways it affects more quotidian moments. I have a lot more confidence to talk about my opinions in public. The fear that no one will like me/talk to me goes away MUCH faster. Sometimes I even forget to feel it. I’m no longer wondering why I can’t get on panels. I understand more of how the programming is put together and I know if I’m turned down it’s just that they had people the programming director trusted more who could fill those roles.
I do still wonder why I can’t get an agent.
… the bitter striving doesn’t go away. It should, but it doesn’t. I’m still looking for opportunities, for ways to market myself, increase my visibility. One goal carries the next on its back. I sold short stories, then I needed to sell a novel, I sold a novel, now I need to sell one to a big publisher. (Seriously, does anyone know an agent?)
What my journals mostly show is that the vast majority of the time at a convention, I’m taking notes, looking for new story ideas, new experiences, new friends. Or I’m eagerly seeking out old friends. I could talk to my buddy Louis FOREVER. He and Angus McIntyre. Arley Sorg was the first person to make me feel welcome at a convention, at the Nebulas in 2018, because he remembered meeting me at WisCon, and I’ll never forget that generous spirit. It’s part of why I spend so much time hoping I’m remembering EVERY SINGLE PERSON I HAVE EVER MET and that is why I am staring at you, stranger.
Apologies. Have we met?
