Norwescon is awesome. Let’s just make that clear right up front. This is not about them. I was invited to be a panelist this year and I politely declined for “me” reasons. I want to talk about those, I guess in case it is helpful for others.
I have been blessed to participate in Norwescon for a number of years. And every time, it has been a joy and an honor. I do not view it primarily as a promotional opportunity (though I do not ignore that benefit). I also do not view it as some earned and expected acknowledgment of my status as a published author, because that is not what it should be (and because I began paneling before I was professionally published).
So why am I not participating this year?
I guess first because of Imposter Syndrome, and a bunch of deeper weird feelings I am working through and will probably write posts about someday, that comes in part from being “Between books.”
I had a trilogy published by Tor, the last book of which I finished writing in 2016 (though it came out in 2017/2018).
I have not yet finished my next project(s). I am not blocked, I’m making good progress, it just takes time to write books and I have gone a couple years without finishing one (at least, in a publishable state), and am at least a year or two from being published again if all goes well (which is not guaranteed).
This is all normal writer journey stuff, and is all fine from an expectations standpoint. To be clear, I am not sad about Finn Fancy ending with book three, truly. And I have no assumptions or entitled feelings that my next work will or should be published just because my last was.
But it is still a weird place to be identity-wise when standing up on a panel as a “pro.” Yes, the struggles and work of writing the novels is exactly the topics of many panels. It is hard to explain my exact and full feelings about it all, even to myself, but there are a couple of reasons for my choice not to be a panelist that I can name:
First, on a more practical level, I take my responsibility as a panelist seriously and wanted to be able to offer something fresh.
For Norwescon specifically, this is my home con, my first con, and the con I have most participated in. So when I was looking at the list of proposed panels this year, I realized I had spoken on most of the topics in one form or another in past years.
In those past panels, I shared my experience and lessons as an emerging and newly published author. But I have done that.
Panels are for me a responsibility to the audience. And I felt that the Norwescon audiences — filled with faces that have become familiar to me — should be given the chance to hear different voices share different experiences and lessons on these topics. Preferably diverse voices.
Next year, once I finish my current projects and succeed or fail with them, once I process and analyze all these weird feelings, once I can step back and look at HOW I wrote these next books and dealt with the various struggles involved, I feel I will have gained and processed enough new experiences and lessons that I could accept an invitation to be a panelist if extended (no assumptions).
The second part, the more subtle and insidious I guess, is this feeling like: I don’t want to be perceived as sort of a one-hit wonder who is still doing tours 20 years later, reliving past glories. So in the meantime I am trying to prove to myself that I am something more than a one hit wonder, and am focused on writing my future projects rather than talking about my past experience.
I am, in essence, trying to focus more on being a “writer” than an “author,” at least until I (hopefully) am again a newly published author.
I will still be participating in workshops and critiques, because I do still want to support and lift up other writers, and I still learn so much from participating in critiques myself.
I also will likely participate in MisCon this year, because I skipped it last year for similar reasons. As a result, I will be in rooms filled with people who I have not already shared my past experience and lessons with, and will feel I am (hopefully) adding value to the panels (and thus I’ll be able to fake my way past the Imposter Syndrome).
Finally, I do also hope to participate in Norwescon this year as a volunteer, to still contribute and pay it forward in that way. And if you see me in the hall and have questions I can answer, I am happy to do so to the best of my ability. I am not locking myself in a dark room alone or saying I have nothing to offer, I am just trying to be realistic and responsible in how I put myself out there as a writer and author.
So, hope to see you at Norwescon!
PS: I almost didn’t post this because the voice in my head said a) who cares why you do or don’t do anything, and b) whatever your reasons it still sounds like entitled and privileged whining. I chose to post it anyway, in case someone else is feeling the same way and struggling to put words or reasons to the feeling — and just to prove to myself that the voice in my head doesn’t control me.
