Why I Don't Get Invited To Festivals Much

See the people on the signing panel.
How happy they are that anyone turned up at all.
How pleased they are when someone purchases a paperback instead of spending all their time on their walky-phones and jabscreens.

From time to time, though, the lovely people at the British Fantasy Society are prepared to put up with me and actually encourage me to address their throngs. This is an unwise move, because I’m liable to say absolutely anything that pops into my head. Or that I’ve written down.

Here’s an edited version (I’ve taken out the most libellous, offensive stuff) of what I said as MC at the opening of the BFS annual jamboree two years ago in Nottingham. I don’t suppose they’ll ever invite me back. *sighs* *then thinks about it and looks relieved* *then sighs again*

‘Welcome to this, the seven hundred thousandth annual FantasyCon, an event which has been going on since before the birth of Christ, or if you’re a Creationist, since children first played with dinosaurs. Many of you, of course, were here at that very first FantasyCon, just in different life forms. Since then we’ve radically evolved – or not, if you’re a Creationist – evolved to cope with massive changes in the publishing industry, in reading habits, and the horror that was Salford last year.

Newcomers will find that we are not as other conventions. I’ve always said that FantasyCon is somewhere between a beer festival, a pagan ritual and a fight in a barn. The first one I attended was in a hotel much like this, with horse prints bolted to the walls, the kind of place where old salesmen come to die bitter, lonely deaths, but my misgivings always melt away within minutes of arrival, to be replaced by deeper fears.

I well remember the convention of 1908, when the booksellers room was overrun with elves, and the occasion when Alistair Crowley turned down his small press award by placing death curses on the first born of the judges. I remember a time when chopping out a couple of lines actually referred to book editing.

But we survive. The friendliness of the BFS crowd is the slashfiction of legend. The people who attend come here not because their agents feel they should be seen to be promoting something, but because simply, they have nowhere else to go. Or possibly they’re on the run and need a place to hide. And you don’t have to be on your best behaviour.

My own fantasy is to MC a BFS in London, one of the world’s key cities, because nobody gives a f*ck what happens in Nottingham. We’d attract newcomers, gain status, and everyone would benefit from the prestige. I’ll be explaining how this could work and offering cash bribes to the management later on.

A lot of mainstream writers have never attended a BFS convention. Is it because they think they’ll be pigeonholed by publishers? Do they have preconceptions about the type of people they’ll meet? Or is it that they simply can’t be arsed? Well, new blood is our lifeblood. The BFS awards are won by the most deserving, but we need to be constantly challenged by newcomers.

Meanwhile, lets be thankful for all the hard, unpaid work carried out by our dedicated organisers as they drag us kicking and screaming to these hellholes year after year, and remember that membership of anything carries a level of responsibility, and a dream of world domination. Our plan is to show that we can be literate and benign, exciting and filled with wonderment, but in a sinister, controlling way. To spread the word around the nation like an STD, and bring new members in to our clinic of the fantastic, to taint them with dreams of the impossible. Everyone else can watch Big Brother. So this is to welcome you to a world where the idea is king, or queen. And remember the benefits of BFS membership – 1. Eternal life. 2. The eerie power to cloud minds. 3. Incredible sexual magnetism. 4. The thrill of seeing your name in print, even if it’s just a note from the hotel saying they’ve lost your reservation.

So come, enjoy, learn, buy many books, take a chance on an author you’ve never read, and if you buy a great many books from the BFS we may one day be the world’s leading fantasy and horror event, although I for one will miss the Corby trouser press and those little packets of biscuits they leave in the rooms. This being Nottingham, I’m going to shoot a member of staff for each copy of my book that goes unsold.