On the Stage at Vue Conf

In a previous blog, “A Newbie in the Devnexus,” I talked briefly about wishing to try my hand at speaking at a conference. As it turns out, this past week that wish came true. I was invited to speak at VueConf.us, and the experience only sealed my fate to pursue this as a new passion. 

Presenting at a conference reminded me of the years I spent playing in bands. It’s like a show on a Friday night with other out-of-town bands, a promoter, and lots of potential new fans that haven’t heard your set yet. There is an initial feeling at the beginning of the week like the quiet anticipation before the gig. Sitting in the lobby bar of the hotel, I watched attendees drifting in from all over the world, a diffuse collection of individuals settling into the anonymous hum of a new city. I didn’t know anyone then, and they didn’t yet know me. 

As part of the pre-conference workshop day, on the early morning walk from the hotel, I followed a group of possible conference attendees. We didn’t have our conference badges, but our laptop-filled backpacks made it obvious we were all headed in the same direction. I quipped something to a couple next to me about the scene, and they agreed we were all dead giveaways as a group of software engineers. I would later learn that my walking companion was a fellow speaker, and over the next few days we would learn we shared many other common interests. In the workshop, it felt like the first day of school. I chose an empty table and prepared to learn. The teacher, Daniel Phiri, was also speaking later in the week, but in the workshop he was able to go more in-depth on his topic. I was excited by his topic of building a RAG solution because I had worked on an internal RAG project with Ippon, and this was another look at how things can be built. The other attendees had varied levels of experience and conceptual understandings of working with AI, and Daniel did a great job breaking down these difficult topics. As the day went on, I chatted with some of the other attendees and again met other speakers as well as new companions with whom I would reconvene again and again as the week progressed. I didn’t know it then, but these were the seeds of the genuine connections with some very inspiring new friends that would blossom throughout the week. I attended the speaker dinner in the evening and had the opportunity to meet with the other speakers at the conference. By nature (not nurture), I’m an introverted person, but I’ve also learned how to push myself through the awkward surface-level conversations so that real conversations can happen. This dinner was no different. By the end of it, I felt welcome amongst peers and new friends, all holding a backstage pass to the conference/concert that would begin the next day. 

As the first official conference day began, I didn’t feel the pressure of performance just yet. I wouldn’t be speaking until the next morning, so I could take some time to enjoy the other presentations. I noticed that as each speaker stepped onto the stage, sharing insights that resonated and sparked new understanding within the crowd, a transformation occurred. The energy in the room shifted, and the speaker shed their anonymity. In that moment, they became the rock star of the intellectual stage. It’s a performance, really, where the stage isn't just for entertainment but also for insight, inspiration, and exchanging ideas. Just like an epic guitar solo can transcend the moment, a well-delivered presentation can transform the way an audience thinks and feels. As the day went on, I noticed how the conference-goers felt a deeper connection, and the speakers were now more approachable. The initial intangible barrier that separated the presenter from the audience began to dissolve. Through our shared experience, we created a unique bond. It was no longer just about the content on the slides; it was about the vulnerability of putting ideas out there and the collective courage of an audience willing to challenge their own preconceptions.

There was a social event in the evening that felt more open and energized. The speakers and attendees all socialized together, and it was obvious a shared kinship had formed. The conversations were deeper. The initial awkwardness of meeting new people gave way to genuine friendship because we all had something in common. Topics that might have been too sensitive or nuanced for those early conversations were now discussed with an openness that only shared experience can allow. We swapped stories about our own projects and offered candid advice, all fueled by the shared passion that brought us to the conference in the first place. Beyond the technical talk, our conversations were also deeper in personal passions and hobbies outside of coding. We shared artistic pursuits, travel experiences, and family traditions and now could see each other as multifaceted individuals with diverse backgrounds and engaging lives beyond our professional roles. This was the ultimate experience of connection and camaraderie. 

On day three, it was my turn to be in the spotlight. I had my normal pre-show jitters, but looking out at the crowd, it was comforting to see so many now familiar faces. Being on stage is always a funny experience for me because I never remember much of it. The introverted part of me gets overwhelmed by the sight of the crowd and turns into pure panic so that I go on autopilot. I feel outside of myself for much of the time, watching myself operate, using hand gestures, and answering questions. It’s been this way for as long as I can remember, and I’ve just learned how to perform despite it. During my presentation I felt like it presented itself; I was merely the conduit, but since I had practiced it so often, I just trusted that the hard work was done and all I had to do was deliver it to the audience. It seemed to go well. I had a lot of engagement during the Q&A, and I felt the shift happen for me too. I now became a familiar face to the crowd, and so many people approached me throughout the rest of the day to compliment the talk or to continue to ask questions. I felt like I had shared a part of myself and was received openly. This is what I love most about performing or presenting at a conference: it isn't just passive consumption; it's an active, communal journey. It’s an intimate connection on a larger scale, as we are all now sharing an experience and a shift in our collective thinking.

The final social event of the conference was at a karaoke bar, and everyone got to be a rock star on that stage. When on day one we were all strangers, navigating the maze of hallways and schedules with polite nods, on this final day we were friends, laughing, hugging, and cheering each other on with each karaoke song. There was a palpable sense of camaraderie. It was the kind of authentic connection you get from a crowd of strangers all singing the chorus together, where everyone in the room has been part of something special, something that resonates long after the conference ends. 

Reflecting back on the conference week, I can truly say that it is a transformative experience. There is no amount of online tutorials, podcasts, or blog articles that can provide as much new knowledge, new connections, and new perspectives as going to a conference in person. I’ve come away from the whole experience with a renewed sense of purpose. It is a reminder that even in our increasingly digital world, there's an irreplaceable magic in coming together, sharing our craft, and letting the collective energy transform us, one stage at a time.