On GCLS

A week ago I returned from my first GCLS convention with mixed feelings. Happy to be back in my own house with my cats yet sad that the trip was over. Thrilled that I made new friends but wishing I could have met more people. Exhausted in just about every way although dreading the return to normal life.

I approached GCLS with similar mixed feelings. I called my friend Alexis around nine PM the night before I left despite a four AM alarm, begging her to talk me off the ledge.

I don’t know anyone.

What if no one talks to me?

What if I don’t talk to anyone?

I’m going to spend the next five days by myself.

 

Thankfully I got on the plane, disembarked in Minnesota, and actually had a good time. At registration I was extremely overwhelmed and fled to my room, but I forced myself to return for the reception later that afternoon. When I saw someone standing at a table looking as lost and alone as I felt, I knew what I had to do.

 

So here’s where I need to mention that, if you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m an introvert. That, alongside being neurodivergent with generalized anxiety disorder, is not a solid recipe for success in social situations. I don’t understand small talk. I’m awkward. Making friends is a foreign concept. I’d rather go to the dentist than start talking to a stranger.

 

But I did. I forced myself to do it at least once, and that probably changed the trajectory of my conference. The person I walked up to at reception was the lovely and kind Jane Walsh, she of a series of sapphic romances set in the Regency period (think Bridgerton but gay, read now and thank me later), and although it took us hours to figure out, also a Bold Strokes Books author. We were soon joined by my eventual partner in crime on the dance floor (more on that later) Fátima, and the three of us palled around for the next four days.

Fátima, Jane, and myself at GCLS

 

It makes all the difference in the world when you don’t exit the lunch buffet line and look around for a place to sit, hoping for an empty table so you can avoid the excruciating experience of asking someone if you can sit with them. I had friends with whom to watch and discuss the panels (or, in one instance, supporting Jane while she bossed the ice queen panel!), to take walks when the hotel walls began to close in, to explore the surrounding area in search of dinner. Had I not connected with people, I probably would have had a terrible experience.

 

I want to stress that every single person I spoke to, without exception, was kind, gracious, and generous with their time. Every single one.

 

However…

 

There existed an element of cliquishness at the con. To be more accurate, there exists an element of cliquishness in this community. To an extent, it’s understandable, right? Some of these people have been friends for years, and some may only see each other in person at these events.

 

But multiple people commented on this at the con, and I’ve seen people discuss it on social media. I don’t know what the solution is, or even if it’s enough of a problem that it needs a solution. Hell, I don’t even know if anyone reads this. One thing I’ve learned over the last several months since releasing my debut is that there’s a lot of shouting into the void and praying someone hears you, while the imposter syndrome is just tearing you apart. For me, I’m going to seek out the people who look the way I feel, like they’ve made a huge mistake and they don’t belong. I understand that friendship has to happen organically, but we can do better at making people feel welcome.

 

I suppose one benefit of being on the fringes is that I missed the con crud. Hopefully everyone who caught covid and/or the flu recovers quickly with no long-term effects.

 

Enough about that. Overall GCLS was a blast, and I can’t wait until next year. All the panels were entertaining and informative. The ultimate success of a panel really sits with the moderator, and my favorites were Kat Jackson and Milena McKay because they brought humor and really knew their panelists. When my social battery ran out, as it often does, I was so glad I was staying in the hotel as it was easy* to run up to my room for a break.

 

(*Easy is relative. The elevator situation was…not ideal.)

 

I was also glad to be staying in the hotel Saturday night when, let’s get one drink and then go watch a movie or something, turned into multiple drinks and shutting down the dance floor at one AM. I am not much of a drinker—I don’t remember the last time I had a drink much less got drunk—but I got absolutely smashed and probably made a fool of myself on and off the dance floor. My apologies to anyone who witnessed my dreadful dancing or who got drunkenly rambled to. It was a night to say the least.

 

Anyway, don’t let the few negatives of this con dissuade you from going. Speaking as someone who doesn’t have a large group of queer friends and doesn’t often feel comfortable being out and proud in the sorry state of Texas, it’s always a novel experience to be surrounded by queer people, and in this instance, queer people who appreciate sapphic stories as much as I do. As much as my mind kept telling me that I didn’t belong, that I was a mere mortal among gods, at least for once it wasn’t because of my sexuality. I can’t wait for Albany next year, and I hope to see you there!