Storytellersunplugged

A few weekends ago I attended a genre conference and was tagged to sit in on multiple writing panels. The range of topics was vast, everything from how-to, to what-now. Usually when sitting on these panels, I enjoy the various points of view from the different participating authors. The operative word here is u-s-u-a-l-l-y. Protocol most often calls for a moderator on these panels, and that moderator’s job is to make sure the conversation flows smoothly by asking questions, prompting different sub-topics that fall under the main topic, and making certain each panelist gets an opportunity to speak. The challenge comes, though, when the moderator is a panel hog (meaning out of a 60 minute time slot, they talk for 55) or when the moderator relinquishes control of the panel by being too timid to divert the conversation away from a participating panel-hog. Unfortunately, both of these situations happened this weekend—moderator hog—participant hog. Arg!

Whenever these situations occur, I normally just sit back and tune out whoever’s talking. 99% of the time they rarely come up for air while jumping from one tale to the next without so much as a glance towards the other panelists. So it’s not like they realize I’m not paying attention anyway. The thing that really gets me, though, is if they’d even take a moment to look over the audience, they’d see that the majority of the folks sitting out there are either rolling their eyes, yawning and not paying attention, or downright sleeping in their chairs. What is it with these hogs? Are they deprived of attention in their everyday lives? Is it a control issue? Or could it be that they don’t realize they’re being obnoxious because no one’s ever told them?

Whatever the reason, it’s irritating as hell. Especially if they’re talking about a topic you know they know nothing about. Take this weekend’s Ms. Oink Moderator for example. The discussion was supposed to be about agents, how to get one, how to work with one, etc. This woman claimed, in a loud, smoker’s voice, that one shouldn’t be picky about the type of agent they get to represent them because agents didn’t come a dime a dozen, so they should be grateful for any agent who asks to represent them. To make matters worse, she insisted that all agents charged a reading fee now and that the majority took a 25% commission from whatever you made. HUH?!? Either this woman had gotten herself into bed with an agent from hell or she was shooting from the hip with a malfunctioning scatter-gun, hoping she looked like a sharp-shooter. NOT!

As Ms. Oink blabbered on and on, I looked at the other authors on the panel—they looked at me—we looked at the audience. Those who were listening to her appeared utterly confused. I waited until the woman drew a breath, which she only did every twenty minutes or so, then attempted to interject my thoughts on the subject. I barely got three words out before Ms. Oink interrupted, louder and more obnoxious than ever. No way was she going to let anyone get a word in edgewise.

I sat quietly for another couple of minutes, then could take no more. As she bellowed on about how part of an agent’s job was to help you promote your book once it was sold, and you should dump any agent who doesn’t, I grabbed my tote bag from the floor, shoveled the books I’d brought along into it, then stood up and interrupted her by saying loudly to the audience, “If all of you will excuse me, I’ll be leaving now.”

This woke the sleeping members of the audience and stopped Ms. Oink in mid-sentence. She looked over at me, and I noted the irritated expression on her face. It all but said, ‘Where do you think you’re going? How dare you interrupt my show!’

In response, I said aloud, “Mary, (name changed to protect the stupid) you really should get your facts straight about agents….viable ones anyway. The publishing business is tough enough without you adding bullshit to it.” With that, I left the room—amidst loud applause. Before I was out the door, every other author on the panel and damn near the entire audience were headed out as well.

I really didn’t want to get ugly with the woman, but somebody had to say something to shut her up. As far as I know, Ms. Oink might still be sitting behind that panel table in that same meeting room, ranting and raving to the walls about the obnoxious broad who dared to be so rude to her.

Ah well, such is life. Sometimes ya just gotta do what ya gotta do.

Have you ever had to deal with a panel hog?