Can I host the best conference ever?
Maybe. Maybe not. But I will try my darnedest.
I was an event planner for several years. Back in my Fitbit days, my team and I hosted about a dozen roundtables, road shows, and conferences. My colleague ran point on the logistics and most of the marketing. I was responsible for content and speaker management. She and I were a great team.
I’ve also got a chip on my shoulder about experiences. Maybe it’s because I’m an introvert. I don’t know. I just think it’s way too easy to have a terrible time. And if I’m in a position to make an impact on that — and give someone a vastly superior experience, well, I’m going to do that.
So this fall in Seattle, I’m going to attempt to host the best marketing and entrepreneurship conference ever. It’s called SparkTogether and it’ll be on October 8.
Here are my gripes when I have a poor conference experience:
The conference details are unclear. I’m surprised by how often this is the case. I frequently have to go back to the event page to figure out when I should fly in. I have to parse through what’s an actual session vs. a disguised sponsor session. I have to look at the ONE hotel recommendation they have then compare it against other hotels. And then when it’s event day and I assume I can just grab a paper agenda at the registration booth, I have to download some white-labeled app and wait for my unique code and click-to-confirm emails to come through.
The content sucks. I don’t care that it’s a bigwig from Salesforce or HubSpot. When their 45-minute main stage session is a clear sales pitch, I’m out. I go on my phone and scroll social media.
The schedule is jam-packed with that crappy content. Some event organizers know their content sucks. Or they think they need to “give value” by tripling their speaker list and making all those speakers compete for attention. So instead of all 700 attendees going to one great session, everyone gets split up among three mediocre sessions, from 8am to 5pm. Exhausting. (I’m away from my kids. How about let me sleep in till 8am, and you start the show at 9am?)
The expo hall is packed with vendors I’ll never hire. I don’t mind getting pitched to — when I opted to get pitched to. And maybe this is an unpopular opinion, but I’d more readily meet 5 curated sponsors and potentially network with them than make laps around the hall to see which of the 30 sponsors have the coolest swag.
The food sucks… if there’s any food at all. One conference I went to ran out of water. I actually left early because I was thirsty. I don’t expect fancy food at a conference — but if I’m paying $500+ for a ticket, I expect food to be provided. Even if it is burnt coffee and underproofed croissants.
I’m too shy to network. Alright, this one’s on me. But you know how it is. Sometimes the vibes are off. It feels like a bunch of sales bros when you just wanted to meet other product nerds. Maybe the afterparty gets too rowdy and you figure it’s safer to just go to your hotel room. Alone.
I know. I sound really grumpy. I just feel like any of these problems are quite easily solvable. It just takes a heckuva lot of thought and attention to detail.
So this fall, here’s what I’m thinking for SparkTogether and how my colleagues Rand Fishkin, Casey Henry, Charlene Ditch, and I will make it exceptionally great for everyone. Even the introverts:
We’ll hold your hand throughout the trip-booking process. By the time tickets go on sale, you’ll know the exact duration of the conference, which additional activities (like a welcome reception and afterparty) you can consider joining, and you’ll even know which speakers we’ve confirmed. We’re also researching all the nearby hotels for you (so you don’t have to!) and we’re locking down airline discounts. Hey, you’re making the trip out. This is all the least we can do.
We personally vetted each speaker, and we’re offering them (free) coaching on their talks. No pay-to-play here. We personally reached out to each of these speakers, and they’re coming ready to share a marketing or business story they’ve never told before. Vulnerable honesty only, stories of success or failures. With the receipts to back them up.
We’re paying our speakers. The margins are thin, but we’re vowing to make this work. We’re covering our speakers’ travel and paying them honorariums or donations to charities of their choosing. We’re asking them to do work for us, and we believe this is the right thing to do.
It’s a single-track conference — every speaker has a keynote slot. A lot of conferences are niche enough. Why forcibly niche it down further and add to attendees’ cognitive loads to choose sessions, when you can instead focus on fewer but incredible sessions?
We’re organizing and hand-picking moderators for mini-masterminds for all the attendees. We’re going to ensure you meet good people first thing in the morning. We’re hosting mini-masterminds for attendees so that everyone has the safe space to speak up, share, and help each other. We’re hand-picking and training facilitators, too.
We’re rethinking sponsorships. No expo hall that you’ll ignore. We’re going to figure out how to better integrate our sponsors into the day. Maybe they’ll sponsor lunch or the afterparty. Or they’ll say hello (no sales pitches!) upon registration.
We’ll have food. C’mon. it wouldn’t be a SparkToro event without decent food. We’ll have coffee, drinks, snacks, lunch, and an afterparty. The tab’s on us. (Uh… or our sponsors.)
And once we actually see you in Seattle, there’s a bunch of hospitable things we’ll do that you can’t really put a price on. I’m going to personally say hello to each and every one of you. I’ll co-host the show. I’ll make sure to find you an extra chair so you’re not standing in the back. I’ll make a snack plate for you and walk you to the mother’s room if you need it.
I’m determined to host the best marketing and entrepreneurship conference ever. I really hope you’ll join us in Seattle this October.
Ticket sales open in several days. Join the waitlist so you can learn more about SparkTogether and get the best deal possible.