Welcome to Zoomland

by Kris Neri, with the Femmes Fatales

We’re all inhabitants of Zoomland now. It’s the only way we can gather together. Don’t get me wrong — I’m grateful the technology exists. I’m extra grateful that for shorter gatherings, the service is free. But there are downsides, too.

Let’s face it — you’re going to look awful. The first time I attended a Zoom meeting, my first, most pressing thought wasn’t the serious subject being discussed. It was my appearance. Is that really how I look? I wondered. Now, I know my mirror lies to me, but in both good ways and bad. It magnifies every flaw a thousand times. But somehow, my own mirror hides from me just how many decades I’ve accumulated.

So, Zoom principle #1: if you’re going to go on Zoom, don’t be old. If you have no choice…well, just suck it up. Your home mirror has been lying to you anyway.

If you’re an author of a newish novel, virtual gatherings are all you have. Months before the release of Hopscotch Life, I set up an ambitious series of appearances — bookstore talks, library appearances, writing workshops for writing groups, etc. — spread out across three states. Of course, they all went poof. All the organizers assured me we’d reschedule as soon just as soon as we opened up again. Turns out we might have been a bit optimistic at the start of precisely what it would take to be safe again.

If you have pets, they’re going to interfere with our virtual gatherings. In my most recent Zoom author talk, my dogs barked loudly right at the start, and then again later on. I don’t have a cat currently, but I’d bet they’ll walk in front of the screen. I guess you could put them out of the room, but my feeling is that it’s their house, too, and they deserve to go wherever they wish.

Principle #2: your pets will interfere at the worst time.

Naturally, whether you do an in-person talk or a virtual one, you’re going to open it up to questions. In-person talks make that easy — the person with a question just raises her hand if she wants to ask one. Less easy in Zoom. Someone might wave at you in the gallery view, and then plunges into speech. But often, far more often than I would have believed possible, you see the questioner’s lips moving, but you don’t hear anything. “Unmute yourself,” you say politely to your questioner. Others in attendance shout, perhaps less politely, “Unmute yourself.” Eventually, someone writes it in a chat to the unmuted one.

Zoom principle #3: expect to lose lots of time to cries of, “Unmute yourself.” Maybe when you open a talk to questions, the words, “Unmute yourself” should just scroll across the screen.

If you’re going to be involved in a virtual gathering of more than a few people, the group better have a strong moderator. I’ve been in both kinds. During in-person sessions, when two people start talking at once, both stop as soon as they realize it, and one indicates for the other to proceed. Somehow, that practice doesn’t extend to virtual talks. In Zoomland, when multiple people start talking at once, they keep talking, and, if anything, shout louder. 

Once I was in a virtual session in which the moderator would announce, “Now we’re going to talk about X,” and then simply opened it to everyone. Most of the audience began shouting at once. Occasionally, the moderator would indicate, “We need better organization,” only she never instituted any. I left as soon as possible. The headache I said I had wasn’t a lie.

Principle #4: choose your moderator wisely.

If you’re going to attend a virtual gathering, and especially if you’re the principle speaker, you have to choose your background. Most of the commentators on the news stand before bookcases. Like most readers, I enjoy scoping out their titles. What I find funny is that repeat speakers, who start out with messy shelves, gradually neaten their bookshelves for subsequent  appearances. I like their messy, overstuffed shelves better. It tells me they actually read too many books to shelve. When their bookcases become neater, with fewer books than they started with, I always wonder whether they have stacks of unshelved books just out of camera range.

I presented a virtual book talk recently, regarding the theme of self-acceptance in Hopscotch Life. I gave some thought to my background, but more import was the fact that I had multiple sheets of paper: the notes for the talk, my two-page handout, and the pages I printed out from the book for readings. I finally decided the background mattered less than functionality. I choose to spread out on my dining room table, even though my background there included a cabinet with some of the strange wine glasses we’ve assembled.

Principle #5: you’ll be judged by your background; choose wisely.

So far I’ve devoted this essay to the more challenging aspects of virtual presentations. Now, let me switch over to the one super-plus positive:

Virtual principle #6: You don’t have to wear pants!

Whether you disclose the outcome of that choice is strictly up to you.

Here’s a link to the recent talk I gave on self-acceptance and Hopscotch Life. Check out how many principles I observed:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1PibhavGm2kswKB8BPSiQ986baodK2f5p/view

Whether I wore pants goes to the grave with me.

What virtual-gathering principles have you discovered?

 

Comments

[Mark]

If you don't care, it really doesn't matter. :) Of course, I care enough to wear pants or at least shorts because otherwise, I will have to stand up at some point during the Zoom meeting. It never fails.

[krisneri]

;) Thanks for that bit of wisdom, Mark. Given the possibility that I will have to stand, I will wear pants in the future...probably.