Jim Hines recently wrote a great post about people feeling like they’d been blown off at cons.
When I first started going to cons I was always wondering what the cool kids were up to. Would they talk to me? And by extension: Would anyone talk to me? Would I have to eat dinner by myself? The answer then was usually no, yes, and sometimes.
Gradually, though, I’ve met more people. Which keeps surprising me since I stopped going to cons for several years. (In the meantime I met people in other ways, and they knew people…) Now, as far as I’m concerned, my friends are the cool kids. Maybe only to my eyes, but what I mean is that I no longer care whether the big name author types talk to me or not. Ok, I care a little. About some of them. But I’m more interested in seeing friends who I don’t see that often, or hanging out more with the ones I do see every couple weeks. And in getting at least a few minutes each day to sit by myself and not talk to anyone. The me from eight years ago would think I was nuts.
(I should add a disclaimer: Jim’s post sent me off on a tangent. I’m not saying that no one gets blown off, or that people shouldn’t be bothered by it.)