Post-SDCC blogging

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I don't usually dayblog, but I'm making an exception.

I have survived another year of San Diego Comic Con. The process of decompressing from this show is a complicated one. It's not exhausting in the same way that Spectrum Live is (it turns out that it's much easier to be an exhibitor than a showrunner) but it's probably similar in intensity.

Traditionally, I come back from San Diego, I do fine for a couple of days, then I get very, very sick. This is probably because, when I come back from San Diego, I have trouble remembering to eat, and I have even more trouble getting to sleep. I assume that the sickness is my body's only way of forcing me to get some rest. Tricky.

SDCC is overwhelming on a number of levels. There's a high degree of social interaction required, there are many late, late nights (social interaction!), there are 160,000 people with an exponentially higher number of germs all packed into a space. People are handling money. Handshakes are pretty common. Sickness! Sickness is inevitable!

It's a wonderful opportunity to get work done, and I always come back from the show feeling very productive. I'm good at what I do, and SDCC is another venue for me to get work done, both for my job and for Spectrum Live. There are connections you make at SDCC that you really can't make anywhere else, in part because EVERYONE is exhausted, and when you do find people you connect with, you bond more quickly than you might otherwise because you're so tired, and there are so many horrible people. New friends become life rafts on a sea of awful.

(I have made a number of lasting friendships at this show, and I continue to meet people who are interesting and engaging. I think that half the battle is wanting to get to know someone. The other half is wanting to let them get to know you. The fact that I come back from San Diego with one or two new *actual* friends each year is pretty remarkable.)

Of course, there's some emotional fallout when I get home, which is the inevitable conclusion to a very long show. There's a rawness to my emotional state which takes anywhere from a few days to a few weeks to normalize.

It's tied into the physical side of things. It's hard to feel normal mentally and emotionally when your system and your schedule are so out of alignment. I know this about the show, and about myself, and have gotten better at handling it over the years. It's much easier when you realize that you're not losing your mind, you're just very, very tired.

Because I can't help being prescriptive, here are some ways I deal with the show.

During the show:

Vitamin C (so much vitamin C)
Water
Coffee
An attempt to be healthy (vegetarian dishes, solid but not heavy breakfasts, smoothies)

When I get home:

Vitamin C (sense a theme?)
Water
Netflix (I just embrace the insomnia. It lets up eventually.)
Careful consideration before socializing
Frozen eggrolls (key for when it's 2 am and you realize you haven't eaten since lunch)
Cats
Comfortable pajamas

This is not a post about Spectrum Live

This is a post about what I have to do after Spectrum Live.

And that is basically sit in a dark room, sleep a lot, and try not to interact with people for a day or so, because I'm so overwhelmed by the amount and intensity of social interaction that has gone on for the entire weekend (and then some - things kicked off Thursday night this year) that I need to decompress. The same thing happens to me after San Diego Comic Con, but to a lesser degree. It turns out, the hierarchy of social exhaustion, for me, goes: event organizer, exhibitor, attendee. Attending shows is SO EASY. Exhibiting at shows involves dealing with a lot of people, but at the end of the day, I get to go out and do whatever and I don't really worry too much about the next day (part of this is because I have already planned out how that next day is going to go, with a lot of flexibility built in, and I have been exhibiting at San Diego for 9 years now and I feel very confident in my ability to handle anything that show throws at me). Being an event planner, though...even when I go out after the show, I'm asking people how their day went, and how the show is going for them, and how it compares to last year, etc. The majority of my conversations revolve around the show (and the show is something that I have had a huge part in putting together, so I'm very invested in it going well). When I go to sleep, I have to make an effort to stop thinking about how I can make the next day run more smoothly. When I wake up, usually around 6 am, my first thought is "what are the things I need to take to the show/remember to do at the show, who do I need to check on, etc." And then I get up and start making lists, and then I go to the convention center and do anything that needs to be done before the show opens, and anything I have time to do in addition to all of my usual stuff during the show itself.

This is all in addition to being the main liason for all of the special guests and generally being helpful and pleasant to all exhibitors and attendees. And I'm very good at doing all of these things, and I enjoy doing them. I just need some pretty serious downtime after the show ends, because I have no patience for anybody by that point. I'm too focused on getting as many things done as possible, not forgetting anything, helping as many people as I can, and making sure that the show runs smoothly in as many ways as I can humanly manage. And I can manage a lot of stuff. I was thinking about what it was about this year that was so much more challenging than last year (I was very busy last year, but I was somehow even busier this year) and I realized that, oh yeah, we had two more special guests than last year! And two more days of programming! Mystery solved.

I said something about this last night at dinner, and I 100% meant it: it's easy to be nice to people who are nice, and everyone I've ever worked with at the show has been really, really nice. But even as easy as it is, in some ways, it takes a lot of energy to interact with so many people and be high energy and, in some cases, literally run from one part of the convention center to another because something needs to be somewhere else as quickly as possible.

Once I can go out in the world again and interact with people in a civil, normal way, it's time to go find frames for all the art I've acquired over the course of the show! That part is way more fun than the "sit quietly, don't talk to anyone, take lots of naps" bit.

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="576"] Michael Whelan is a class act.[/caption]

I love the show, and I love being a part of it. It's challenging, and involves a lot of different elements to plan and participate in it, and as someone who is both horribly arrogant and highly competent, this is a good match for me. In addition to this, I'm not a natural extrovert, but I do pretty well, all things considered. My normal life involves a lot of time by myself, so this is probably the most intensely social weekend I have all year (followed by SDCC), and it's an odd mix of work and fun. The people are all super cool and interesting, and I enjoy talking to everyone, but it takes a lot out of me once it's over. It's like being on a massive caffeine bender, and as long as you keep going and stay awake, it's great, and then when you crash, you crash hard. I crash hard. It reminds me a little bit of my last year in college, where I was working full time at McDonalds, taking a full course load, and also doing an internship in Kansas City. I'd wake up at 4 am and I'd be going until about 11 pm (some of my classes were night classes) and I was fine as long as I didn't sit down on a comfortable chair. As soon as that happened, SUPER tired.

The show is all I can talk about for several weeks afterward. If you look at this post, you'll see the word "show" a tremendous number of times. I work very hard on it, I want it to succeed, and it holds my attention for quite a while after it's over. It did the same thing last year. I wouldn't call it an obsession, but I might call it a highly focused point of interest. An obsessive hobby. Hobbsession?Sorry, I'm still very tired.

Totally worth it, though. It's exhilarating.

Twas the night before Spectrum judging and I got to go to the dinner

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="576" caption="I get to do neat things."][/caption]

My favorite thing about working with the Spectrum Fantastic Art Live show is getting to know people in the industry. Well, my favorite thing might be the art. But it's tied for first with getting to know people in the industry. Everyone has amazing stories, and in many cases, I'm getting to talk to people whose work I've been impressed by for a very long time. This is a neat thing. (My job is like this too, but as per usual, I won't be talking about that. Suffice to say, my job is awesome. My work with Spectrum Live is awesome. My cats are awesome. Caffeine is awesome. Why is it so late? I have to get up early tomorrow! Look at my life! Look at my choices!)

Tonight, I got to have dinner with Tim Bruckner, Irene Gallo, Tim Kirk, Mark Nelson, Michael Whelan, John Flesk, and Arnie and Cathy Fenner. I can't even get into the stories because there were too many of them, and they were all hilarious and amazing. I've been a science fiction and fantasy (and comics) fan for as long as I've been able to read, and to get to listen and participate in these conversations is very, very cool.

Also, I got a shout-out in a ridiculous holiday video that I somehow managed to miss when it was posted! Clearly, I should set up a google alert for my name (I'm not going to do that, that sounds terrible).

Seriously, though, art is clearly #1

Here's a novella about my Spectrum live feelings!

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="376" caption="Spectrum Live!"][/caption]

So aside from my day job, which is basically the coolest job I can think of (yet describe in the most boring way possible, and will not talk about in this space, probably), I have been working on Spectrum Fantastic Art Live for the last few years.

What is it? It's an art show with a focus on fantasy and science fiction. It includes concept art, three-dimensional art, oil paintings, sketches, digital art, bronzes, dolls...it's a long list. If it can be imagined, it's probably represented.

Basically it's a spotlight on art and artists, and a way to bring these artists and their art to the public. If you're a nerd like me, you'll love it. Trust me.

It all started at a Dead Dog Party at San Diego Comic Con in, oh, probably 2009 or 2010. I was talking to Arnie and Cathy Fenner, and they floated the idea of a convention centered specifically around artists. If you've been to SDCC in the last ten years, you know that there are MANY areas of focus, and some (Hollywood, video games, television shows) are taking over more and more attention and floor space. The Fenners thought that an art-focused show would be great for fans and artists alike, and I thought it was a great idea.

If you aren't familiar with the Fenners, they publish an art annual called "Spectrum: The Best in Contemporary Fantastic Art," and they have been doing this for the last 20 years. 2013 is the 20th anniversary of the book, and it's an amazing publication. If you've never seen one, go to a bookstore or comic shop and find one (and buy it). It's an amazing collection of art. I was lucky enough to be a judge for Spectrum 18, and it was both an amazing experience and quite an education into the kind of work that's being produced. Amazing. Fantastic! (if you find a copy of Spectrum 18, you'll see my photo in the jury section, wearing my Carrie Donovanest glasses.)

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Anyway, they know their stuff, and they've been focused on this art for a long time. A year or so after our SDCC conversation, they asked if I would be interested in being involved in making this theoretical show happen, and I said yes. Of course.

We had to put together a show from scratch - getting the word out to potential exhibitors, figuring out the floor plan, scheduling programming, everything...not to mention the logistics of finding a venue, figuring out all of the little details (insurance! security! how money works!) that add up to a show. We thought it would be hard, and we were totally right! It was super hard! We had weekly meetings for more than a year leading up to the inaugural event, which was May 18-20, 2012, in the Grand Ballroom of Bartle Hall in Kansas City.

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="408" caption="The scene of the convention...pre, you know, *convention*."][/caption]

We also put together a number of events around the show. We had a special screening of "Better Things: The Life and Choices of Jeffery Catherine Jones," by Maria Paz Cabardo. It was inspiring and bittersweet and just remarkable. If you ever have a chance to see this film, do it. We also had a late-night live drawing session at the top of one of the convention hotels, which drew a great crowd, and I missed because 1. I don't draw 2. I was soooo tired.

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="376" caption="This was obviously staged, but I WAS very tired."][/caption]

I did, however, make it to the first ever Spectrum Awards.

Each volume of the Spectrum book includes category winners, and the winners have always been announced in a press release. Because we had a physical event, we decided that it would be a great opportunity to finally have an awards show to celebrate the winners of these categories. We booked the Midland Theater, planned even MORE stuff (Quixotic performed! My favorite thing about this was that when they were announced, the crowd was kind of "I have no idea who this is because I am not from the KC area, but okay, polite applause," and when they finished, the applause was deafening. Way to go, Quixotic. Way to be awesome!) and all these amazing artists, art directors and other people involved in art community managed to tear themselves away from KC's famous BBQ to give speeches, accept awards, and have a great time.

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Phaedroid also performed. Amazing."][/caption]

So we did this amazing show, we had over 250 exhibitors from all around the world, art directors from every discipline (comic books, video games, board games, movie studios, AND MORE!) and people like me! Fans. Well, I was technically the "special guest wrangler" which sounds a little weird, but I got to have walkie-talkie conversations that went like this "Does anybody have eyes on Mignola?" "Yes, I see him...3 o'clock...where's his panel?" etc. Best guest-wrangling experience was being told that the Shifletts hadn't showed up for their panel yet, and finding Jarrod watching Iain McCaig's presentation. Artists are fans of each other! It's so obvious, yet also so wonderful to see in action.

Looking over that "from every discipline" bit reminds me of an article that ran in my college newspaper back in the day. I lived in the scholarship halls at KU, which was kind of like the Greek system, without the money and the social skills. And nerdier. The newspaper would sometimes run profiles of rooms, and they ran one of a room in Battenfeld, which was the schol hall next to mine (Watkins!). The money quote was one of these young men saying "We have over 200 pounds of books, and we have everything from science fiction to fantasy."

(200 pounds of books is not that much, dudes. come on.)

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="324" caption="Imagine that I'm also holding "The Complete Calvin and Hobbes" and "The Complete Far Side" and that's 200 pounds of me, cats and comics. Not that impressive."][/caption]

This is so rambly...I'm so sorry. I'm just trying really hard to not let it turn into marketing text. It's like finding religion, or drugs, or being on fire, or having an experience that you want to share with everyone but you just know you won't be able to explain it sufficiently. I want, so badly, to convey how important, wonderful, energizing, amazing this show was, and I know that nothing I can type here is going to make you feel the way I felt at the show.

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="430" caption="Just like how nothing I post can make you understand just how fuzzy James' belly really is. Language has failed me even more thoroughly than T9 predictive texting when it was pretty sure I spent all my time playing "videohands.""][/caption]

Sunday night, everybody hung out in one of the hotel bars to drink and talk and decompress. This was the first SFAL ever, and no one had known what to expect. I went around and asked for feedback, and I honestly expected a mix of good and bad. What I heard was overwhelmingly positive (and some constructive criticism which I did write down and we took to heart for 2013). I had been really tired, and I thought about just going home, but all I could think was that this was happening in MY CITY. And I helped make it happen. And there was no way I was going to miss out on the last night with all of these amazing people.

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Paul Tobin! If I remember correctly, we were talking about Frank Lloyd Wright, and I was probably talking about how he never made livable spaces and was a huge jerk in his personal life. Because those are the kinds of conversations I insist on having with talented artists from around the world."][/caption]

I was overwhelmed by how amazing the show was, and how uplifted I felt during and after the event. I was seriously dazed for a month after, because I couldn't believe it had really happened, and it had gone so well. I'm not exaggerating when I say that, for me, it was a life-changing experience.

I'm one of the organizers for Spectrum Live because sometimes, the only way to go to the kind of show you want to attend is to build it yourself.

We have a Facebook page.
And a website where you can buy tickets to the show and book hotel rooms if you're coming from out of town.

The show this year is May 17-19.
I really can't wait.