Attending the 80th World Science Fiction Convention, ChiCon8, was such an (exhausting) joy. I walked away with a stack of books—including old favorites, books that spoke to my heart, and books I fell in love with after reviewing them for Booklist—signed by their authors. I made many new friends over cocktails and ribbons, and was able to have coffee in real life with people I knew from the back-and-forth of online acquaintance-ship. Thanks to one of those people, I briefly and carefully held a Hugo Award in my own hands.
I went to the awards ceremony itself in royal blue and applauded, cheered, and cried. I dreamt of winning one myself, someday, on that glorious stage, applauded by my peers. I was on three panels, talking bookstagram, mental illness, and believability, defending the youth and introducing some people to Susan Sontag. I was proud of my restraint as I walked the dealers' room and didn't end up buying a dozen new books or the gorgeous, rare omnibus of Octavia Butler's Xenogenesis.
I hope another WorldCon is not too, too far away in the future, but either way, I am thrilled to have attended this one.










