4th Street Fantasy is a small con in Minneapolis, a little over 100 people attending this year. Unlike most SFF cons I’m familiar with, it is much less business-focused but very interested in craft. Most con panels I can take or leave, it’s mostly things I’ve heard before, but at 4th Street the panels are fascinating, riveting. Even better, the whole weekend is like an extended conversation, and everyone is delighted to launch into further explorations of the topics over meals. One of the ways it accomplishes that is with one-track programming, so everyone has a shared vocabulary of how to talk about the subjects outside, and also by keeping it small.
If you go to cons only to make connections with editors and agents, this con isn’t for you. If you want to improve your craft and think about the hows and whys of story writing, then it absolutely is.
Last year, I was mostly silent in the corner, listening and absorbing. Not so this year. Partially because I’ve relearned how to interact with people in group settings, but more because I understood what kind of con this was.
By which I mean, it’s the kind of con where I can get into the nerdiest of arguments. Argument is the easiest way for me to learn about my own thoughts and others’ ideas, and I found people at 4th Street happy to oblige me. I’ll expound on something we came up with over dinner in a few days, when my brain has recovered from con.
So anyone who knows me well is going, “No wonder Casey had a good time if she got to argue with people and nerd out!” Seriously, best. Everything from story structure, to investment in relation to suspension of disbelief, to voice as charisma in characterization, to the relative merits and definitions of genre distinctions, no subject was too sacred.
4th Street is not just about improving fantasy, though; it’s also about building community. Minneapolis hosts an active fandom, but this con (by which I mean Elizabeth Bear and Steve Brust’s powers of word-of-mouth) draws fabulous people from all over. Favorite authors and Twitter friends descended, and multiple Viable Paradise classes invaded this year. For me, that meant a mini-reunion with VP classmates, who are equally ready to fence about storytelling into the wee hours of the night or to collectively retreat to make words together. Even better than the discussions is reveling in the feeling of Tribe.
I ran out of braining capacity Sunday afternoon, but I had a good run until then. Best people, best conversations. Wonderful con.
Now to sleep the sleep of the just.