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I've been attending Convergence since 2002. I've watched it grow and morph, watched it struggle and triumph over those struggles. Watched it become the nearly 7000 member convention it has become. Convergence has been pretty good to me, having me as an invited participant for the last few years and hosting several of my book release parties. I sell twice as many books at Convergence as I do at any other Twin Cities convention.
And now I have to walk away.
It has simply become too much for the blind writer and fan to deal with. Too much noise, too much crowds, too much drunken twenty-somethings. Just…too much.
For the last few years, I've struggled more and more at Convergence. Just the logistics of packing and preparing for Convergence is stressful. The line to pick up badges seems to be getting longer and slower every year. The load into the hotel is always hot and sweaty (The con is over July 4th weekend) and the load out takes forever because of the elevator problems. Ask me about the night I climbed 22 flights of stairs. Ask me how faster, younger able bodied people would happily charge forward and cram into the thing before those of us with canes or chairs can even start forward, squeezing us out in their mad dash to get aboard. Tough luck, gimp.
But it's the crowds that finally killed the convention for me.
Crowds are a fact of life at larger conventions, but it's something I struggle to deal with to the point of sometimes getting so overwhelmed that I give up and go up to the room to hide. Now granted, I'm an introvert and at conventions I try to be "on" as much as possible--smiling, chatting, being social--which is exhausting to me. So I dive back into the room to recharge.
But the crowds, oh the crowds.
People at conventions don't pay attention to their surroundings, they’re too busy talking and looking at all the shiny and at Convergence they are packed shoulder-to-shoulder in the hallways and it doesn't matter if I'm using the cane, all I'm doing is hitting people who glance at the cane and then move on as I hit some other oblivious con-goer. Any moment I'm in the hallways and trying to get around on my own is fraught with peril -- near-misses, people tripping over the cane, and accidentally body-checking strangers into walls. It is especially bad with small children, who tend to dash one direction while looking the other, often right under my feet. I don't even go into the dealer's room at Convergence. It presents all the same problems as above, now with bonus narrow aisles and displays lying in ambush, waiting for the hapless blind guy to stumble into them. Going into the dealer's room (or art show) without assistance is impossible and with assistance still too difficult to manage.
The final thing the crowds tend to do is "blind" me. I'm already struggling with not being able to see much of anything in a rapidly changing environment, but the noise--especially around the party rooms (which I've learned to avoid)--basically leaves me without my other primary way of telling me what is happening around me. If I can't see clearly, and I can't hear clearly, what chance do I have? I've had to drop out of some things I wanted to do, simply because it became too hard on me in those situations to deal with the environment. There have been several moments where I quite literally froze in place because I lost my bearings and could not navigate my surroundings safely. It is a frustrating thing. It has gotten so bad that the year before last, I froze up in a crowd to the point that I simply couldn't move—couldn't even pull my cellphone and call for help—was trapped by both a crowd induced panic attack and the unending press of humanity. I had pulled my cane in and was standing still as the crowd broke like a wave around me. I finally had to be rescued by one of the roving convention hosts.
I have tried to talk about this stuff at conventions. There was some disability programming a couple of years ago, panels I pushed for about Disability in SF. Sadly, even this was problematic as Convergence put us in a space that was too small and difficult to access for our disabled fans in wheelchairs.
Last year, it was bad enough that I simply couldn't move around on my own. If I had to be on programming or some other event someone had to be with me, helping me as a sighted guide to move around the convention. It's the only convention I attend where I need a sighted guide, and I hate it. Hate the loss of independence. Hate that I have to take someone's time away from the convention because I can't function anymore: hated that if I wasn't being led around the convention from one programming item to the next, I had to retreat to the room because I can't managed to walk around the con on my own. If I was going back this year—if I ever go back—it is obvious I'll need a personal care assistant to help me with Convergence. And I hate that idea as well. I know. I know I'm a blind broken gimp and I shouldn't be so reticent to get the help I need and can legally ask for, but it takes all the enjoyment of the con away.
When it came time to try and get a room for Convergence, I was already thinking this might be my last year. Then came the day of trying to get a room; a day of more stress and frustration as once again the system crashed, some people seemed to have access to a backdoor and then all the room in the main hotel were gone, despite that fact I had done everything right and in a timely manner. It wasn't until this last weekend that we even knew if we could get a room in the hotel. By then, the decision to stop going to Convergence had been made.
I realized this year I was hating the idea of going to any of the 7 to 10 book festivals and conventions I attend every year. Not just Convergence, but all of them. That I just wanted to stay home all year. Hiding. The thought of going to conventions had me wanting to curl up with my confused cat and hide under the bed-covers. After talking it over with several people, I figured out it was just Convergence. I was so stressed at the very idea of dealing with Convergence that it was spoiling all the other conventions for me. Convergence comes at the end of my convention season and having it lurking out there in the horizon makes me anxious and angry and takes all the fun out of the other conventions.
A part of me hates to stop attending, especially this year. The theme is Urban Fantasy, which seems a slam-dunk for me as an author. I am a freakin' Urban Fantasy Author fer-cryin'-out-loud. I have two new books I haven't tried to sell at Convergence. Scott Lynch, one of the Guests of Honor, is my friend and another GoH, Emma Bull, is someone I like quite a bit. It has always been my best convention for sales. To walk away from such a great marketing opportunity seems silly.
And I don't have anything personally against Convergence. It is the convention it is, and thousands of people seem to enjoy being squeezed into the hotel with thousands of other con-goers. For many people, this is their favorite event of the year. Their vacation. The biggest bestest badest party ever.
Bless them. Bless them all.
But I just can't. I can't even.
Just the thought of Convergence makes me exhausted.
So it is time to stop.
And now I feel nothing but relief.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Originally posted at michaelmerriam.net. You can comment here or there.
And now I have to walk away.
It has simply become too much for the blind writer and fan to deal with. Too much noise, too much crowds, too much drunken twenty-somethings. Just…too much.
For the last few years, I've struggled more and more at Convergence. Just the logistics of packing and preparing for Convergence is stressful. The line to pick up badges seems to be getting longer and slower every year. The load into the hotel is always hot and sweaty (The con is over July 4th weekend) and the load out takes forever because of the elevator problems. Ask me about the night I climbed 22 flights of stairs. Ask me how faster, younger able bodied people would happily charge forward and cram into the thing before those of us with canes or chairs can even start forward, squeezing us out in their mad dash to get aboard. Tough luck, gimp.
But it's the crowds that finally killed the convention for me.
Crowds are a fact of life at larger conventions, but it's something I struggle to deal with to the point of sometimes getting so overwhelmed that I give up and go up to the room to hide. Now granted, I'm an introvert and at conventions I try to be "on" as much as possible--smiling, chatting, being social--which is exhausting to me. So I dive back into the room to recharge.
But the crowds, oh the crowds.
People at conventions don't pay attention to their surroundings, they’re too busy talking and looking at all the shiny and at Convergence they are packed shoulder-to-shoulder in the hallways and it doesn't matter if I'm using the cane, all I'm doing is hitting people who glance at the cane and then move on as I hit some other oblivious con-goer. Any moment I'm in the hallways and trying to get around on my own is fraught with peril -- near-misses, people tripping over the cane, and accidentally body-checking strangers into walls. It is especially bad with small children, who tend to dash one direction while looking the other, often right under my feet. I don't even go into the dealer's room at Convergence. It presents all the same problems as above, now with bonus narrow aisles and displays lying in ambush, waiting for the hapless blind guy to stumble into them. Going into the dealer's room (or art show) without assistance is impossible and with assistance still too difficult to manage.
The final thing the crowds tend to do is "blind" me. I'm already struggling with not being able to see much of anything in a rapidly changing environment, but the noise--especially around the party rooms (which I've learned to avoid)--basically leaves me without my other primary way of telling me what is happening around me. If I can't see clearly, and I can't hear clearly, what chance do I have? I've had to drop out of some things I wanted to do, simply because it became too hard on me in those situations to deal with the environment. There have been several moments where I quite literally froze in place because I lost my bearings and could not navigate my surroundings safely. It is a frustrating thing. It has gotten so bad that the year before last, I froze up in a crowd to the point that I simply couldn't move—couldn't even pull my cellphone and call for help—was trapped by both a crowd induced panic attack and the unending press of humanity. I had pulled my cane in and was standing still as the crowd broke like a wave around me. I finally had to be rescued by one of the roving convention hosts.
I have tried to talk about this stuff at conventions. There was some disability programming a couple of years ago, panels I pushed for about Disability in SF. Sadly, even this was problematic as Convergence put us in a space that was too small and difficult to access for our disabled fans in wheelchairs.
Last year, it was bad enough that I simply couldn't move around on my own. If I had to be on programming or some other event someone had to be with me, helping me as a sighted guide to move around the convention. It's the only convention I attend where I need a sighted guide, and I hate it. Hate the loss of independence. Hate that I have to take someone's time away from the convention because I can't function anymore: hated that if I wasn't being led around the convention from one programming item to the next, I had to retreat to the room because I can't managed to walk around the con on my own. If I was going back this year—if I ever go back—it is obvious I'll need a personal care assistant to help me with Convergence. And I hate that idea as well. I know. I know I'm a blind broken gimp and I shouldn't be so reticent to get the help I need and can legally ask for, but it takes all the enjoyment of the con away.
When it came time to try and get a room for Convergence, I was already thinking this might be my last year. Then came the day of trying to get a room; a day of more stress and frustration as once again the system crashed, some people seemed to have access to a backdoor and then all the room in the main hotel were gone, despite that fact I had done everything right and in a timely manner. It wasn't until this last weekend that we even knew if we could get a room in the hotel. By then, the decision to stop going to Convergence had been made.
I realized this year I was hating the idea of going to any of the 7 to 10 book festivals and conventions I attend every year. Not just Convergence, but all of them. That I just wanted to stay home all year. Hiding. The thought of going to conventions had me wanting to curl up with my confused cat and hide under the bed-covers. After talking it over with several people, I figured out it was just Convergence. I was so stressed at the very idea of dealing with Convergence that it was spoiling all the other conventions for me. Convergence comes at the end of my convention season and having it lurking out there in the horizon makes me anxious and angry and takes all the fun out of the other conventions.
A part of me hates to stop attending, especially this year. The theme is Urban Fantasy, which seems a slam-dunk for me as an author. I am a freakin' Urban Fantasy Author fer-cryin'-out-loud. I have two new books I haven't tried to sell at Convergence. Scott Lynch, one of the Guests of Honor, is my friend and another GoH, Emma Bull, is someone I like quite a bit. It has always been my best convention for sales. To walk away from such a great marketing opportunity seems silly.
And I don't have anything personally against Convergence. It is the convention it is, and thousands of people seem to enjoy being squeezed into the hotel with thousands of other con-goers. For many people, this is their favorite event of the year. Their vacation. The biggest bestest badest party ever.
Bless them. Bless them all.
But I just can't. I can't even.
Just the thought of Convergence makes me exhausted.
So it is time to stop.
And now I feel nothing but relief.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Originally posted at michaelmerriam.net. You can comment here or there.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 06:56 pm (UTC)But I guess MiniCon probably did make the right call in trying to limit itself. Big conventions are fun but they are also exhausting.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 09:03 pm (UTC)Convergence
Date: 2014-05-13 05:57 pm (UTC)The Minneapolis Convention Center.
Plenty of space for 7K people. Plenty of space to expand their art and dealer rooms which are anemic when compared to other cons (GenCon, DragonCon, etc) Plenty of break-out rooms for readings and seminars. Plenty of space for a large number of people to actually navigate and mingle and for Convergence to grow. PLENTY OF PARKING.
But Convergence is really two things: A con AND a post-con-but-still-part-of-the-con-theme-room-party. And the post-con party would not go over nearly as well in the Convention center. Having patrons rent out and theme the rooms at the hotel takes quite a load off the financial as well as legal liability. Just the insurance alone for such a thing would take a massive bite out of their operating expenses. I can imagine the insurance person looking at them, "You want to do WHAT?"
Convergence needs to decide what kind of con they really are, and who their target audience really is: are they actually catering to sci-fi/fantasy fans? Or college kids who want an all-you-can-eat-and-drink weekend in themed bars? I suspect if they continue to stay in the hotel, the latter will drive out the former, and I'm sorry Michael that you are case-in-point.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-10 12:22 am (UTC)Convergence and MarsCon were then started by newer attendees who wanted THEIR beloved old convention.
If Convergence tries to downsize, will the cycle repeat?
no subject
Date: 2014-05-10 01:24 am (UTC)But really! Minicon welcomes science fiction fans of all media. Minicon doesn't have media guests of honor, but that's because Minicon doesn't pay guests of honor (and media guests are generally the ones that charge appearance fees). (Minicon does treat guests well, paying their way to the con and for a room and other such things. But Minicon doesn't pay appearance fees.)
Just wanted to clarify this as this particular misunderstanding about Minicon drives me crazy. And it makes it difficult for Minicon to get people to submit panel ideas about TV and movies and comics and find panelists for those panels because so many people are under the mistaken impression that Minicon is all about books and/or science programming. And then because there isn't as much media programming, people continue to think it's a book-only con and the cycle continues.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 07:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 09:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-10 04:58 pm (UTC)Wow: do they even ask about special needs?
K. [doesn't go to Convergence either]
no subject
Date: 2014-05-10 05:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 07:45 pm (UTC)It is not better because they are fans. And it is worse when they are fans who brag about how great fans are about that sort of thing.
I'm sorry that you can't go to this con for your own peace of mind, but I'm glad that you're protecting your own peace of mind.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 09:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 09:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 09:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 08:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 08:53 pm (UTC)P.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 09:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 09:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 08:58 pm (UTC)And for me too. Emma is a very old friend of mine and I really like Scott, and they both have so much of interest to say.
I have most of my faculties still, and yet this sounds so familiar that I have not been to Convergence in about ten or fifteen years. I had many of these difficulties, though not the vision-related ones (well, aside from mild vision-related problems with being a short person), at the large Minicons, which I don't think even topped 4,000 people. There were still wall-to-wall, shoulder-to-shoulder scrums, and very little acknowledgement that somebody, able-bodied or otherwise, might need to get through in a timely fashion.
I'm glad you did figure out that your revulsion about all your plans was really all about Convergence.
P.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 09:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 09:33 pm (UTC)I talked to a number of people at Minicon this year who had recently given up on Convergence because of the size and decided to "give Minicon a try" instead (or come back to Minicon after some years). I hope they enjoyed themselves and return next year.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 09:46 pm (UTC)Convergence is a good venue for gaining some recognition as a writer.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 10:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 10:34 pm (UTC)I have been to CONvergence every year since the beginning. This year, we made the decision not to go because as you and others have already said, it is just too crowded, and because many of my closest friends have already stopped attending.
I remember how overwhelmingly relieved I felt after making the decision. I wasn't expecting it to be so strong of a feeling. We will be camping at Lake Superior this year and I'm looking forward to it with nearly giddy anticipation. I have not felt that way about CONvergence for longer than I'd care to admit.
It's a great convention. Obviously, lots of people love it. It is not my thing.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-10 12:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-10 01:41 am (UTC)Several years ago or more I realized that CONvergence just didn't really work for me. To enjoy the con, I'd need a room in the con hotel which means an outlay of quite a lot of money for membership & hotel room. And, of course, actually managing to get a room reserved in the con hotel (which has become increasingly difficult). And I'd need a room I could actually get to/from. And the thing is, at least the years I did go, there wasn't enough programming or other events that I found interesting to make it worth my while. (Part of needing a room would be for some of the reasons you mention, to deal with the crowds, I'd need to have a place I could hole up from time to time).
Last year I liked the look of more of the programming than I have in the past, but realized that there was no way I could realistically commute to the con to check it out (and that was before I heard tales of the really long registration lines). Having to show up super early to get parking and stay all day wouldn't work for me to do a casual drop in for an afternoon and evening or whatever.
Their size issue is a huge problem, IMHO. But apparently the con still works for some people as it is . . . I'm just not one of them and an increasing number of people I know seem to have reached their limit with it and have stopped going (or are stopping this year). I think if they want to stay in the space they're in they should cap the membership. Or else if they want to stay this size or continue to grow they should move downtown where they have larger hotels closer together. And a lot more parking available nearby. If overflow hotels were needed, they'd be a walk down a skyway rather than a shuttle away. But it's not my con and not my problem, though I do sometimes wish I could go to some of it.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-10 03:25 pm (UTC)Glad you don't have to give up conventions completely, though :)
no subject
Date: 2014-05-10 04:59 pm (UTC)*hug*
no subject
Date: 2014-05-11 12:36 am (UTC)