World Horror Convention will be well under way at its venue in Brighton. Everyone who’s anyone in the murky world of weird will be gathering like flies around the proverbial, networking like crazy. And then there’s me. Looks like I missed the opportunity to rub shoulders with the high and mighty...
Conventions like this one are undoubtedly a must for all in the genre. It’s easy to see the benefits for artists selling their skills. Eager literary types have a chance to wave manuscripts above their heads as they stampede towards dug in agents or publishers, convinced they have a slim chance of an eventual, positive outcome. Workshops, if they don’t churn out facsimile techniques to the masses, could hope to encourage individualism. At least the depressing desperation of wannabes is swept under the red carpet laid out for those they strive to emulate, trampled, death throws silenced by the hubbub of fans bloated on cheap food and drink.
Sure, that’s a skewed view. From someone who doesn’t actually relish conventions. Lose the crowds and give me an intimate encounter anytime.
A message to those I’ve bumped into in the past or worked together at a virtual arms length: Have fun and lap up the networking benefits and camaraderie of what should be for the majority, a great event.