Last weekend, I was at a local science fiction convention. Next week, will I have to watch another one die?
Science fiction conventions – sometimes referred to as SFF cons, where the last F stands for fantasy – are what is known as “general interest” conventions. These are very different from “media” conventions, such as the comic-cons and fan expos you may have heard of. Usually, science fiction conventions are much smaller, ranging from 100 to more than 6,000 attendees. One of the largest cons is Convergence in Minneapolis, held yearly during the July fourth weekend. Panel topics range from workshops on writing techniques and self-publishing, to discussions of recent movies and books, to lectures on recent science from experts in various fields. Cons also have concerts, parties and gaming. The age range at most of these conventions generally skews older, and many cons are hitting their 40th, 50th and even 60th years of running. I am almost always the youngest person by a couple of decades at these events. For convention organizing committees, known as “concoms,” this poses a longevity problem. As cons age, their organizers retire or pass away. When no one else takes over, cons are forced to shutter. Attendance falling – due to people’s wallets tightening after retirement or regular attendees protecting their health from COVID-19 or, again, attendees passing away – creates funding issues that imperils the future of these cons. Some cons have already closed, such as Marcon in Columbus, Ohio and Orycon out in the Pacific Northwest. One of my cons from home, Capricon, is known as a “walking zombie.” Every year, I have to text another young person with family on the concom and ask if the con I have been attending since I was seven months old is gone. It’s limping along, but every con that closes is an entire legacy and unique experience that is just gone.
Growing up attending science fiction conventions was an enriching experience. I wouldn’t be the person I am today were it not for the music circles I listened to, the panels I sat in – and eventually on – and the mentors and friends I met. Where else do you run into full-time artists and musicians, and physicists and astronomers?
However, at cons, people my age are few and far between. Many first started going because their parents do. Most of my con friends have parents in the collaborative, nerdy music scene called filk, which we’ve watched shrink as I am the only one of us joining it. I realize that the mantle of conventions will logically fall to us, this next generation. But there are too few of us to run even one con, let alone keep all of them going. Right now, we are also too young, busy with college and job searches to run cons. So, we have been forced to watch them suffer and close, with our hands tied.
We spread info about cons via word of mouth; we try to get friends to come with us. But people are not used to the type of experience a science fiction convention offers. The panels tend to be small, and do not often feature celebrities and lack focus on purchasing. Still, I walk away with many books, bought directly from authors, or pieces of jewelry from the people who made them. People’s conception of conventions is often a spectacle. A science fiction con is more of an enveloping and social experience, where conversations about science and media – that I think people imagine happens only in online spaces – are conversations that have been happening for more than 50 years in-person. And you can join them.
I will acknowledge, from firsthand experience, that there are multiple costs associated with attending cons. Badge prices are often somewhere between $35 and $85, depending on when you register. Sometimes there are discounts for youth and young adults, but those only apply until high school or college-age, depending on the con. Minicon, a comprehensive local convention, ends their student discount at age 20. I will graduate when I am 22, so I will be a student paying full price for two years. Some cons do have discounted badges for new people, so take advantage when you attend for the first time.
The badge price is completely worth it, because once you get to the con, everything is free! Panels, music and food (which may or may not be enough to survive on for a weekend), are all included in the cost of a badge. The spectacular items in the art show or Dealer’s Room cost money that is going directly to local artists, and you can always just look. Another cost concern is the high cost of hotel rooms, particularly hotels which host the cons. If you are going to a con local to you, you can commute (which has its own costs), but some programming items like music circles or parties run late into the night. These expenses are reasons why a nonprofit organization called Interfilk provides minigrants of $500 to defray or cover the cost of cons for people under 35, or for whom the costs of a con pose a financial burden. I attended Ohio Valley Filk Fest in 2024 through the mini-grant program. The program began as a way to get more young people to attend conventions with music programming by helping to make it possible. If you have an interest in the music side of science fiction conventions, you should apply.
Please, find these personable, in-person fandom places, the ones that aren’t commercialized and are centered around human connection. Find the ones that have been here for decades and need new blood to carry on their work. There’s something for everyone. I don’t want to helplessly watch another con, or the last con, die.
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