Narrativity 2022 – You Can’t Do That … Unless it Works
Yesterday I returned home from this year’s Narrativity convention (where we continued to require masks and proof of vaccination). Our theme this year was “You Can’t Do That . . . Unless it Works”. And that seemed to be the theme of the entire weekend, not just our panels.
Let me start by saying that I am not capable of being actually critical of this convention. It was our third time meeting in person, and I have been at all of them. I LOVE the community that is Narrativity. I look forward to seeing them every year, and every year, I leave wanting all of them to live closer to me.
That said, it is not a perfect convention. I know this because this year, I did a lot of work on the programming, and I can point out all the mistakes I made, especially around the way I grouped some panelists’ panels so that they were on, say three panels in one day, instead of those panels being spread out over our three days. But one of the joys of this community, a community that understands rough drafts, critique, and getting better, is that folks are willing to say – hey, this didn’t work quite so well, but let’s work together to make it better for next year. And that is amazing.
Over the weekend, one of the attendees had an unexpected medical event. The other attendees pulled together to get the person the help they needed, both in the moment and going forward. But it led to a really late night for some people, including one of the panelists on our first panel the following morning. So we moved the panel from the panel room into the con suite, where there were couches that could be lounged on, and we were all closer to the coffee. That is one of the joys of the small convention. All sorts of things we could not do at a larger convention, we can do, as long as it works for us. We take care of each other.
This year, we added a couple of new events to the con. We started with a workshop (for an added fee) run by Skyler White with Steven Brust, Emma Bull, Will Shetterly, and Chris Wozny stepping up to serve as mentors. I participated, submitting the opening scene of the novella I have been working on for over a decade. The feedback I got from Will and the fellow members of my group was excellent and really helped me get re-energized about writing, something I’ve been needing. (And now I need to start talking to my local critique group to find out if we are all at a point where we can start writing and critiquing again.)
Our other new event was an opening night, fancy dress (if you wanted) mixer. It was a great chance to just get to talk to people in a relaxed, unfocused way. And it gave some of us an excuse to dress up just for the fun of dressing up. I loved that we have added this event, though I also think back to the first year, when, if we had had the mixer, I would have been afraid to just walk up to a group Steven or Emma were in. But, one of the great things about this group is that there was always an eye to expanding the circle, not just being open to it, but proactively noticing separation and working to bring people into the group and the conversation.
If you were at Narrativity this year, thank you for spending the weekend geeking out about storytelling with me, for putting up with the imperfect organization of the programming, and for just being a community that feels like home. If you were not at Narrativity this past weekend, I suggest reexamining your life choices, or at least considering joining us next year if you love talking about the art of storytelling, be it in novels, short stories, graphic novels, art, music, games, or any fashion. Or if you just want to expand your “to be read” list. Because seriously, as one of the primary people collecting that information during the panels, we come up with a pretty amazing list of books.
