The storm before the calm
Organising an academic conference is, in many ways, like directing an epic film. There’s an ambitious script (the conference theme and schedule), a star-studded cast (distinguished academics, eager PhD students, and perhaps some keen undergraduates), and an intricate set of logistical challenges that must be meticulously choreographed. Yet, despite my best efforts at preparation, I now find myself in the eye of a perfect storm, where deadlines, technical hurdles, and an ever-growing to-do list swirl around me like an unstoppable whirlwind.
Act One: The Website – A Digital Odyssey
The website for Camera-Stylo and the Sydney Literature and Film Network was meant to be the digital heart of the conference: an elegant, functional hub where attendees could register, view schedules, and access academic materials. In my mind, it would be seamless and sophisticated—a virtual cinematic masterpiece. The reality? A labyrinth of content management systems, design decisions, and technical roadblocks. Each time I think I have solved one issue, another pops up like an unwelcome plot twist. Will I get all the necessary features running in time? Will the conference information be accessible, the registration process smooth, and the inevitable last-minute tweaks manageable? Time will tell, but at this stage, I wouldn’t say no to a deus ex machina.
Act Two: Invitations and the Art of Herding Academics
Sending out invitations should, in theory, be a simple administrative task. Draft an email, click send, and watch the RSVPs roll in. But academia does not work that way. Scholars are busy. Emails get lost in the void. Some recipients respond immediately with enthusiasm, others go radio silent, and a few—without fail—respond weeks later as if they’ve just discovered their inbox for the first time. Then there are the speakers who have agreed in principle but are still “finalising” their abstracts, and the eternal challenge of ensuring that there is enough variety in the schedule to keep the event stimulating for all.
Act Three: The Contributors – Getting from Idea to Execution
An academic conference is nothing without its content, and here lies another layer of the storm. Some contributors are wonderfully organised, submitting their papers and presentation materials well before the deadline. Others need a little nudging. And then there are those who, despite best intentions, will inevitably submit at the eleventh hour—or later. As an organiser, I find myself playing a delicate balancing act between firm deadlines and the understanding that academics often operate in an endless cycle of writing, revising, and overthinking.
Act Four: Technology – The Hidden Villain
Every good story has an antagonist, and in this case, it is the ghost in the machine. Will the conference’s hybrid component—our integration with Zoom for online attendees—function smoothly, or will it collapse into a sea of buffering and broken connections? Will the website crash under the weight of last-minute visitors? And let’s not forget the classic academic conference trope: PowerPoint disasters. I am preparing for every possible contingency, but technology has a way of surprising even the best-prepared organiser.
Act Five: The Calm Before the Premiere
Despite the storm raging around me, I know that, come conference day, something remarkable will happen. Academics will gather, ideas will be exchanged, conversations will flow, and the intellectual energy will make all the behind-the-scenes chaos worth it. In the end, organising a conference is much like any creative endeavour: a battle against time, resources, and unpredictability, but one that results in something greater than the sum of its parts. For now, I continue to weather the storm, hoping that when the lights dim and the first speaker takes the stage, the turbulence will settle into something that resembles cinematic brilliance..
