This weekend I had the honor of being Toastmaster at ConFusion. This was one of my best convention experiences ever … and in a few days, I’ll be able to focus on what an epic time I had. But first I need to get through what I think of as my post-con neurotic phase.
I’ve talked before about being an introvert. When I do a convention, it’s in some ways a performance. That doesn’t mean there’s anything deceptive or dishonest, but I’m basically playing Jim C. Hines, Extroverted Author. It’s a great deal of fun, but it also uses up a fair amount of energy. One thing I’ve noticed is that it requires me to turn down some of my internal filters and censors.
And that’s what leads to comments like the one I made during opening ceremonies where I introduced one guest who had been attending since about 1980, and remarked, “Wow … I was only six years old.” Now here’s a peek inside Jim’s brain:
Wait, why did I say that? That wasn’t in my script of jokes. I was trying to point out that this person has a great history with the con, but I basically announced, “Hey, they’re old!” That’s kind of a dickish thing to say. Have I just alienated our guest of honor or made them uncomfortable? What the hell, man?
This sort of thing doesn’t usually bother me too much while I’m at the con and “on.” It’s afterward, when I’m overtired and heading back to the real world, that it starts to get to me. I think back to Sunday afternoon when Sarah Zettel asked me to strike a pose, so of course I showed off the belly and gave my best hip-thrusting pose as I left the panel … which sent a familiar cramp of pain up the back muscles, eliciting a shout of, “Son of a bitch, that hurt!”
Why did I say that? I excised the word “bitch” from my vocabulary more than a decade ago! And it didn’t even hurt that bad; just a tight muscle from sitting in panel chairs all day. Way to go, Jim — you’ve just convinced those people who said you were out of shape that they’re right, because you can’t even do one little hip-thrust without whining about it.
There were a few other such instances. They get stuck in my head for several days after the con, the little things that I’m 99% certain nobody else noticed or really cared about. Sure, I flubbed a joke in opening ceremonies, but overall I had a great deal of fun introducing our line-up of awesome guests, and all of the feedback I received afterward was positive.
I really did have an incredibly good time. I’ll try to do a more traditional write-up, by the end of which you’ll all be rather jealous. There was the author D&D game, the dessert reception, my guest star role on Tom Smith’s Rocky Horror Muppet Show … I had an absolute blast.
But after almost a decade of conventions, I also know that I overthink. I borderline obsess. And then, once I’ve caught up on sleep and gotten back to my real life, I get over it. But that day or two of post-con obsession is annoying. And I’m a little curious if I’m the only one who does this…
Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.
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(August 2013)
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Comments
(I didn't notice you flubbing a joke, nor did I think you're 1980 comment was dickish.)
It does help some to recognize what's going on, that this is a normal part of my brain, and to try to keep things in perspective. Kind of like after you've written enough, you realize that the "I suck I'll never publish another good story again!" is a normal but annoying part of the process, and that this too shall pass.
I'm definitely in a much better space with it all than I was five years ago. Maybe someday I'll reach the point where I can leave a con, realize that I messed up when telling a story, and just shrug it off. But I'm not there yet :-)
Cons are a strange place when you're a pro/aspiring pro. On one hand, it's about geeky fun! You're sort of on vacation! On the other hand, you're working. A cheap joke might get you a laugh, but you're also managing your brand and possibly networking with other pros. That laugh could cost you sales or an anthology invite.
So yeah, Lynne and I typically have a neurotic debriefing during our trip home. :-)
More than once I've come home and immediately e-mailed folks saying, "Hey, when I joked about this, was that funny or was I being a dick to you?"
I can't remember a single time anyone has gotten back to me and said, "You're such a dick, Hines!" But that doesn't stop the worry.
I do much of what you say here, too. I over think what I said and obsess and worry (and repeat myself). Over the years, I've learned that people are very forgiving and often didn't think the things you were afraid that they would or don't remember you saying that particular thing at all. If people are enjoying your "performance" then they remember the good feeling and not so much the details. I think if everyone was laughing at what you said and did, then you did just fine and you shouldn't worry.
Also, I meant to tell you at the con that for your blogs on women's issues on the Internet, you are one of my heroes. Sorry I didn't get to say this to you in person at the con, though.
Intellectually, I'm rather proud of how I did in my first Toastmaster gig. The emotional side should catch up in another day or so :-)
Regarding second-guessing your actions, I think that's typical of most people, extroverts and introverts. The folks who don't have an internal filter are the rarities. Those who lack a filter and are easy on the eyes become reality TV "stars." ;-)
Eep! That's it, I'm a-keeping my filters!
Ironically, I had finally gotten past this kind of obsessing and fretting. Then a few years ago, I did a small local event with a friend (basically I was the pubbed author and she was the soon-to-be pubbed author that I was helping out). It was late, I was tired, and something I said came out wrong. The 15 or so folks there (either friends or my fans) all laughed, and no one thought much of it--except my friend, who got so upset about it, it eventually destroyed our friendship.
Since then, I've gone back to being worried that I'll say stupid things and people will hate me. SIGH.
BTW, I love the hat :-) ANd I'm sure you were great. Someday I hope to see that hip thrust movement in person...
As for the hip thrust, just remind me to stretch first :-)
I can also beat myself up for dumb comments I made in 1993. BEAT THAT!
{oh god oh god now he's going to think I'm a total ass, like that "Topper" guy in the Dilbert cartoons, why the hell do I do this? CHRIST I'M SUCH AN ASSHOLE.}
Oh, and get off my lawn.
Dr. Phil
I graduated from college that same year!
Thanks ;-)
Far from it. I do exactly the same thing. Wish I knew how to stop. *sighs*
("Turning down the filters" is so true - I need to, or I'd be standing there tongue-tied, but then all sorts of things slip out that I didn't actually mean to say. And the instant it's out, I want to sink into the floor. Gah!)
One of the first bricks I ever remember dropping was during a group conversation at a con in Albany; someone said something witty and I unthinkingly replied (in a rare moment of disinhibition), "Wow, you're much smarter than you loo--" Followed instantly by my blush and apology. (Although, my fellow attendee was dressed as a werewolf and his face was obscured by fur so I think the words didn't sting too much.)
Since then I've tried to keep more of a lock on my tongue. Not always successfully, of course :-P
But TBH, Jim, although I only know you through your blog, you come across as someone who is fundamentally kind and thoughtful. If I heard a quip from you that was borderline, I'd assume it was motivated by goofiness rather than vindictiveness. Wouldn't surprise me if your audiences feel the same way.
One of my first cons, I ended up on a panel where I blurted out -- and messed up -- a joke.
After the panel, I realized where the joke had come from: it was something Scalzi had said a few weeks back on his blog.
The topper: not only had I swiped and ruined John Scalzi's joke, but I had done so while on a panel with John Scalzi.
I e-mailed him afterward, completely mortified, and he just shrugged it off, but I was in the Zone of Burning Shame and Mortification for a while after that one.
You mean there are people who don't feel they have to perform if they're in public and interacting with someone, in any way at all?
Before medications this was every single day of my life, before during and after every single thing I did. From the hello at the door to the waiter (still thinking, an hour after I left, about whether or not I'd said something stupid to them or if I'd pissed them off, and why should I care because I was there to eat but that's just rude of me as they're people too but I should be able to be better than that but I should be allowed to have a bad day and... all over a 'hello') to the time I had to stand up and say something publicly.
Being able to do it situationally? Turn it off? Oooh, it is lovely.
But not unexpected. It's essentially running on full throttle for hours at a time, while idling in place. It's bound to do some kind of damage at some point.
Rest. Recoup.
And thinking of.. the single worst thing I could do - this is for myself - was to try to correct/deal with those things in that same moment. Waiting until later? Made my hands itch but... ultimately it was a lesson worth learning.
Mentally inscribing this into my brain for further pondering, because I get the feeling this is something I'd do well to incorporate...
I like to avoid situations that trigger this.
Edited at 2012-01-23 05:36 pm (UTC)
I'm just hoping that maybe it'll happen less as I grow older, because the only coping strategy I've found is to distract myself until the obsessing has died down. Problem is there always seems to be a next time.
Of course, the closest I've ever come to a Con was some comic book thing they had at the local library and a rather boring academic conference in Chicago when I was an undergrad. People in crowds are scary. *shiver*
I'm so introverted I can't even pretend to be otherwise. I spent about five years as a con vendor, and while I do manage to be outgoing and charming enough to chat with people and make sales, I always miss the evening con festivities because I'm so completely drained from being "on" all day that all I can bear to do is go to my room and crash and hide.
One of these days I'll go to a con I'm not working, and try that "social", "making friends" thing I've heard so much about!
I've literally spent ten years learning how to perform as "extroverted Jim" at a convention, and for those first few years, I sucked at it.
There's a part of me that enjoys performing and acting, which helped some, but it's definitely something that took a lot of work and practice.
I never go to con parties for exactly the reason you describe - I just don't have enough left by the end of the day, and I'd much rather collapse in the hotel room, click on a low-brain movie or show, and try to recover a bit.
p.s. I WANT YOUR HAT.
The hat came from a ren fest years ago :-) I love it, but it's slightly too small, so I get major forehead dents if I wear it for very long.