Sith-ing it up at Star Wars Celebrations

 

Hi, I'm Pippa Jay, author of sci-fi and supernatural stories to engage your emotions.

And this year I was lucky enough to have Star Wars Celebrations revisit my home country. It was last here in 2016, when I had the great privilege of being gifted a three day pass by a very generous friend and fellow SW fan.

When the announcement came of its return, I spent a long time debating whether to go. Neither of my boys were interested. My daughter was away at uni. Train fares keep on rising, and aren't even always running with strikes and regular weekend maintenance meaning buses instead.

But then a work colleague/new friend mentioned she was thinking of going. I mentioned I'd thought about it too. So we decided to go together!

I loaned her my daughter's Rey costume, and spent an intense two weeks putting together my own Sith character costume. I was really happy with it despite the time pressure.

I managed to blow up my lightsaber the night before, had a disaster with my makeup, lost one of the special coloured contact lenses, and forgot to put on my fake nails, but aside from that I think we looked awesome. We got several compliments, and unlike so many of my previous cosplay, this was by far the most comfortable. We also took LOTS of photos!

We loved it. I wish I could have taken even more photos, but then I find that cuts into looking around and enjoying it. But this has definitely been my favourite thing of 2023 so far!

Discovering the Art of #Cosplay

Hi, I'm Pippa Jay, author of scifi and supernatural stories with a romantic soul. But I'm also a cosplay addict.
I remember very clearly learning to sew. I must have been six or seven years old at the time. A well meaning female relative tired of my tomboy ways bought me one of those sets that are popular quick picks for presents. It was sewing clothes for Cindy (the British equivalent of Barbie). I remember very, very clearly my poor mum trying to explain why the hat had to have a running stitch running parallel to the brim so it could be gathered in to make a Miss Muffet style cap. I was a stubborn little madam and wanted to do the stitch at right angles to where it should be (I can't remember why though). Eventually my mum gave up, grabbed the box and chucked it out the front door. Some time later, I snuck out, reclaimed the box, and quietly sat stitching it her way. The incident was never mentioned again.
I can't say I was the most competent seamstress, but I am a relatively good bodger. Once my mum had taught me to use her sewing machine, I turned out quite a few outfits for my dolls, including a rather mix and match 'uniform' for my space travelling crew of Pippa dolls (not Pippa because I owned them - that was their real brand name!). My POC captain wore a gold lamé robe (really a dressing gown) with a blue satin belt. My red-haired second had a blue silk mini dress, while the medic had a white shorts suit like something out of Austin Powers, and my alien shapeshifter (a headless doll transformed by the edition of a wooden cat's head from a finger puppet with a bit of real fur glued between her ears) had a pink catsuit (of course). I guess having parents who were fans of Star Trek might have had some influence...
As a teen, I extended the life of some of my favourite clothes using my sewing skills. Outgrown jeans got expanded by strips of coloured fabric down the sides. Long sleeved tees got turned into sleeveless ones. But my most ambitious project was a costume for my first scifi convention - a hoodie from one of my favourite scifi series, Blake's Seven, plus a gun belt. I still have the top even now.
But it wasn't until quite recently that I've really challenged my basic sewing skills and discovered the art of cosplay. A dear friend and fellow fangirl generously bought me a three day pass to Star Wars Celebration Europe in 2016. We'd not long seen the first film in a new trilogy, where lead character Rey had caused my eldest's conversion from Star Wars hater to fan (but that's still the only film of the series she likes). She had a hankering for Rey's costume, and as a fellow author and cosplayer on Twitter had not long posted a tweet about two Star Wars patterns, it just seemed fate. However, finances meant that I hadn't planned to take my children (I hadn't expected to be going myself, and wouldn't have if not for my generous friend). When the chance came to take one of my three, it was superfan 11yo who got the chance. Due to his red hair, I suggested a General Hux cosplay for him, even though this meant making my own pattern/design from scratch. This was quite a test for my basic sewing skills, but I don't think it turned out too badly?

11yo as General Hux

After that, I well and truly got the bug. Eldest did in fact get the chance to come to the final day of Star Wars Celebration with me, and although she's not the biggest fan, she does have the better idea of fandom, a concept she embraces. She adored all the cosplayers at the con, and I knew I had at least one companion for doing it again, so many years since the first.

Eldest as Rey

While I may not look like any characters I like, I take this as an opportunity to make and wear whatever costume I happen to take a fancy to.

My Anakin costume

I've now made 12 cosplays in all, always learning new skills along the way, and after two years of refusing to join us, my husband has now gotten the bug too and has joined me in attempting a complex cosplay of his own (though he did do Hooper from Jaws last year). But you'll have to wait until next year for the big reveal...

Hubs as Hooper, and yes, that is Toyah.

Eldest's Tauriel (The Hobbit)

Middle child onstage as the Witch-King of Angmar (Lord of the Rings)

This year's cosplays: my version of Han Solo (The Empire Strikes Back), youngest as the Plague Knight (ShovelKnight), middle child as Quicksilver (X-Men), and eldest's Tenth Doctor (Doctor Who)

Masks: the Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Hi everyone! I am YA author B A Binns , writer of contemporary and realistic fiction for teens. My tagline tells you what I am about - Stories of Real Boys Growing Into Real Men - and the people who love them. 

This month, I join the genre-istas in talking about Masks.

Many of us wear them, sometimes even me. (And no, that is not me in the picture, just a friend doing cosplay).

But I do put on a mask almost every day of my life.

My mask is not made of paper, or plastic, or even makeup. I put my mask on every day and go out into the world to convince people life is great and that I’m happy to be among them, and yadda-yadda-yadda. Most of the time, I am successful and my mask hides my pain. 

My work-in-progress, one I have tentatively titled Family Reunion, deals with a young girl wearing the same pretend mask. She puts it on so no one will know how scared she is. Not her mother, or her aunt who is also her best friend, or her brother. 

Certainly not the father she adores who is an officer deployed overseas by the Navy.

Then she meets a boy and gets a glimpse inside his mask. Suddenly neither of them is quite as frightened anymore.

If that sounds like a romance—it isn’t. The girl and boy are only ten. She’s a black child whose family just moved into a predominantly white small town struggling to find acceptance in the school’s top girl clique who call themselves the Fabulous Five. She’s willing to do anything the leader wants to be invited in. He’s a White boy with hemiplegia, a lifelong condition that leaves him unable to control his left arm and leg and has him in a wheelchair. He tries to remain invisible to escape the bullying led by his own cousin, the leader of the Fabulous Five. When the two kids finally learn to see each other and remove their masks, it’s magic.

The same kind of thing can happen in the real world. Only last week I read about some police sitting down and having a heart-to-heart with a group of homeless kids. The discussion got off to a rocky start, both sides were defensive and untrusting. Then one cop admitted that his father was in jail, and the ice began to crack. Another cop angrily noted how bad the kids smell, as if he thought the stink was directed at him, or at least at law-abiding citizens. A kid explained that smelling bad was a deliberate strategy for keeping sexual predators away when you are homeless and have to sleep on the streets.

Not an act of rebellion or an attempt to push good people away. Another mask, worn for protection.

After the police absorbed that shock, a lot of honesty came out on both sides. When we look under the masks we usually find our common humanity.

I admit masks and play acting can be fun and entertaining. That’s the appeal of Phantom of the Opera (I loved Gerard Butler in the movie). It’s the joy of cosplay and the love of Halloween (my personal favorite holiday).

But sometimes we need to use masks to help us survive in a hostile world.

And, unfortunately, the way the Internet can be used to mask identity is a large part of the popularity of social media. A screen name and a phony avatar provides users with a level of anonymity, an Internet mask, that lets them call people like Leslie Jones, Serena Williams and Michelle Obama "monkeys." Masks can enable cowards to attack with impunity and write things they would never say if they knew they would be discovered.

The truth is, I have long been a stranger in a strange land. A black student in a predominantly white college - majoring in Biochemistry and Math, no less when people expected me to be in social work or nursing. I needed a mask, and to practice selective deafness as well. Then a Black woman in a field dominated by White faces. Now a Black author attending mainly White writer's conventions and living in a predominantly White neighborhood. So I have indeed perfected the art of putting on my mask every day before stepping outside my doors. But the mask has been slipping lately. Maybe because constantly pretending is infinitely tiring.  I truly admire the young people of today who feel strong enough to eschew the mask and release their true thoughts and feelings.

Opening Your Heart and Your Space

When one door closes another opens. I've been told this phrase all of my life and never really realized what it meant. I had thought growing up without a father would keep me from learning what it felt like to loose him to death, but after having him back in my life and facing his mortality I think about everything I've learned from him.
My father is an amazing man; stubborn as all heck, set in his ways, and very minimalist. But what can I say? He was raised by a grandmother who hadn't wanted him after his mother died when he was eight, did three tours of Vietnam, and spent most of his adult life living on the streets. You're doing the math aren't you? He's 75 in case you're wondering. And during that time he's fought cancer seven times, currently in his throat and lungs.
Seventy-five is a long life, even longer when you've endured the things he has. He's a fighter but even then you can only fight for so long. And when he's done fighting he'll need a place to find peace and joy for those last days, weeks, months, possibly even a year or two.
And that's where we come in. They will be returning home to live with us. Which leaves a whole new problem right? Seven people in a three bedroom two bathroom house. Yep. That includes three kids and adult who all have their own hobbies, and gadgets. Which made me realize how much supplies I had for my hobbies and how much room we need to make.
What are my hobbies? Well, of course my career of writing, but I also scrapbook and do just about anything crafty as well as my husband and my kids do Cosplay. Which leaves a lot of things laying around. So with this knowledge urging me on I decided to tackle getting organized.
Step one, get my office back into order and trim down my scrapbooking supplies.
Step two, make sure the kitchen, living room and garage are organized and labeled so that anyone can find and put away things.
Step three, find a way to turn the bonus room into a suit for them.
Step four, take joy with whatever time he has left.

What do you do to keep organized? What are your hobbies?