Good afterevenmorn!

My social timelines have been abuzz… alright, they were abuzz a couple of weeks ago, I’m slow… with the news that a certain writer is a wee bit miffed that their attempts to be included in the programming at Worldcon this year had been left unanswered, resulting in their exclusion in the programming. Which on the surface, is not a great look for Worldcon.

I don’t know why I’m being obtuse. It was George R.R. Martin. George R.R. Martin, author of the much-acclaimed (and unfinished) Song of Ice and Fire series, mentioned on his blog July 9th that he would be headed to Worldcon in Glasgow, but was not on any programming because he could not get a hold of anyone to arrange it. In his own words:

I am not on any programming.   It is not for lack of trying, though.   I wrote the con’s programming chair back in January, and again in February, asking for his phone number so we could discuss the details.  No phone number was forthcoming, alas, just a form letter with a link to an application and a warning that while I was welcome to apply, I could not be guaranteed a place on the programme.

That application to be on programming never made its way to the even organizers, but Mr. Martin was nothing if not persistent. He sent queries about a number of things he’d like to do at the convention; a Wild Cards party, a memorial panel for Howard Waldrop, and the debuts of some short film he had been working on. But he received no replies to any of it.

It seems riotously unfair, really… from a certain perspective.

But not really from where I’m sitting.

And not really for my mutuals on social media, either.

Look, I was raised in Australia, and sometimes I fear that the cultural acceptance and expectation of the implementation of Tall Poppy Syndrome might be behind my current feeling towards this whole affair, so I was a little hesitant to write of my thoughts on this matter. But, fair’s fair.

Mr. Martin wasn’t entirely correct when he claimed to have done all he could. He could have gone through the proper channels, like everyone else. He could have filled out the form that was literally sent to his inbox – or had a member of staff do it. Just like everyone else had to.

I’m not particularly familiar with the processes of Worldcon. Can*Con in my hometown is about the only science fiction and fantasy convention I’ve dared to attend, let alone apply to be a panelist at (and even then I was coerced into it). I’m working on the profound imposter syndrome that has prevented me from expanding my networking circle… which is quite the problem in my industry, it must be said. I have plans for next year to put on my big girl pants to start venturing out like an adult who is serious about her writing career. I digress…

I know that in the past, Can*Con has opened up a form, which they’ve announced on all their platforms, where one could go and suggest a topic for a panel. Doing a quick search, I note that Seattle Con has one as well. Worldcon does, but it is restricted to its membership… which makes sense. Worldcon is huge! I can’t imagine the amount of work it would take to sift through all the suggestions of their membership, let alone the entire world of SFF enthusiasts. If that is the proper channel, it is on everyone who wishes to do things in association with Worldcon go through that channel.

That goes for getting your name on the programming.

There are no kings and peasants. There are writers. And everyone being given an equal opportunity to sit behind a table and enthuse about the topic of the hour is exceedingly appealing to me. Largely because it’s an enormous opportunity to be seen and heard, which could make (or break, I suppose) a writer’s career. I do have a dog in the race. Or would, if I could get out of my own damned head, anyway.

I understand that things were not always quite this equitable. I imagine, anyway. I mean, what would I really know? Relationships were the currency of the circuit – and still are to a large degree. “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know,” is an adage that still holds a great deal of truth (in all walks of life, it would seem). If picking up the phone and curtailing the channels the rest of the plebs must slog through – skipping the line, essentially – was the usual thing for those who are considered very important persons (and George R.R. Martin certainly qualifies as V.I.P, no?), then can we really blame them for expecting it to be the exact same this time around?

Even knowing this, I find I can muster little sympathy for those who are used to dancing around the rules when they find that they no longer can. I’m not at all receptive to the complaints of someone whose definition of ‘did all they could’ does not include the one thing they actually should have done.

Look, after the messy scandal of last year’s Worldcon, I have no doubt that this year’s board wanted to be extra careful not to display any signs of discrimination, or favour, towards any particular attendee. That does mean, unfortunately (or fortunately?), that everyone must follow the rules. Everyone.

And I’m kinda here for it, really.

So too were all of my mutuals, and theirs.

Honestly, I hope that this democratisation of the speculative fiction circuit continues forever into the future. It will be important, I think, for introducing new voices and new perspectives, and giving a chance to some brilliant writers who might otherwise remain in obscurity.

I might be being terribly ungenerous about it, though. What do you think? Were you aware of the kerfuffle surrounding Mr. Martin and Worldcon, and if so, what do you make of it? Sound off in the comments below.