Fantasycon: Saturday Night

Let's set the adulatory and hero-worshipping fanboy tone right away: Fantasycon Rocks. Like a boss.

Three years ago I was hovering awkwardly, but purposefully, at Inklight's stall at StAnza – Scotland's largest poetry festival. That purpose was clearly defined, but that didn't mean it was a simple task. I was hard-selling our journal to anyone who stumbled within flyering range, and in such a small foyer, a lot of people were being shunted past me. Despite this, it was not going well. It wasn't expected to, and one sale would have made my day. But this was looking less and less like even the remotest possibility until, when all hope seemed lost, a lovely lady called Di came upon my stall, saw the simple and fruity cover of our amateur publication, and allowed me a moment to pitch it.

We hit it off, but it wasn't until I told her that I had an extract in the journal, that she agreed to buy it. The personal connection was important, so I later learned. She met the author, found him (dare I suggest it) interesting, and determined that it would be worth a moment or two of her time to read his work. £3 went into Inklight's coffers, and I gained a little something for myself too: advice, for an aspiring author.

Fantasycon.

It took me a while to make it there, but armed with a kindred spirit in the undauntable Clare Hicks, after three years, I was there. Best advice EVER.

Fantasycon is an annual weekend of fantastical awesome, and this year it was in Brighton, during the hottest October in recorded history. Within 30 minutes of arriving we'd already received more than half our ticket costs in free books. The next day, we received the other half, and then some.

For a weekend we were walking down the same hallways as dozens of authors, passing them and daring ourselves to make eye contact. We sat and listened, like rapt little children in awe of a six foot BMX biking teen that would be their one-time hero. They imparted further advice, like the need for a personal brand, reinforced by, yes, a blog, and that maybe I should rethink the chosen one thing. Oh, and let's be clear. We are NOT talking costumes and kids, but adults and a whole lot of mutual respect.

I'm going to have to cover the highlights of the con in particular, rather than the trimmings, and boy were there trimmings.

Let's start off with the juicy stuff. There was a frickin' burlesque show. An adult fantasy geek-themed burlesque show. The first girl made Cthulu sexy, and another introduced me to Puscifer. Immense. On that same night, we threw shapes. And we saw shapes cast around like paper aeroplanes by famous authors to some seriously epic tunes. How many nights out include Rock Me Amadeus and Let it Rock?

I mean, damn.

That's a taster. There's more to come, and I hope it'll be enough to convince a few of you to join me next year, because there's no way I'm not going back.