One of my favorite lines from one of my favorite movies: “Stop trying to hit me and hit me.”

I wrote about that idea recently—this nagging feeling that our hobby events are so focused on getting things right, on not upsetting anyone, on protecting what we have, that we’ve forgotten to actually swing. The opportunities are sitting right there in front of us and we’re still standing in the same spot we’ve been standing in for thirty years.

Let me be clear about something before we go further: this isn’t a criticism of any show, any organizer, any club, or any person. I have genuine love for this community and the people who pour enormous energy into creating events. Running a model show is hard, thankless work and the people doing it deserve real credit.

But I do this for a living. Community building is my profession. And when I look at scale modeling events through that lens, I don’t see broken things, I see a massive void where extraordinary things could be happening. I see patterns. I see warning signs. And mostly, I see opportunity that’s going completely untapped.

That’s what this article is about. Not what’s wrong. What’s possible. Let’s dig in.

The Three Pillars of Real Event Leadership

Before we dig into the hard stuff, let me share what I believe creates great hobby events. Not good ones…great ones. The kind people talk about for years.

One: A strong leader who makes choices. Not a committee. Not a consensus. One person with a clear vision who is willing to make decisions, take the heat, and stay the course. Committees are great for generating ideas. They are terrible for creating culture. A strong leader rallies the troops, makes clear and direct decisions, and pushes to experiment, learn, and grow.

Two: Freedom from the past. What worked ten years ago may be irrelevant today. Great event leaders aren’t beholden to “how we’ve always done it.” They ask what we should be doing, not what we have been doing.

Three: Philosophy first, not contests first. The best events aren’t defined by their competition categories. They’re defined by what they’re for. Connection. Craftsmanship. Mentorship. Experimentation. Belonging. When you lead with philosophy, the programming follows naturally. When you lead with programming, you end up with a series of disconnected activities that feel hollow even when they’re executed well.

What Philosophies Actually Matter in Scale Modeling?

I believe if you’re going to lead with philosophy, you need to know what philosophies resonate in this hobby. Here are some that matter deeply to me:

Craftsmanship and mastery. The desire to get better, to learn technique, to push the limits of what’s possible with paint and plastic and resin. Events built around this philosophy attract people hungry to grow.

Community and belonging. The simple, profound need to be around people who get it. Who understand why you spent forty hours on a tank no one else in your household cares about. Events built around this philosophy create friendships that last decades.

Discovery and experimentation. The joy of trying something new, failing without judgment, and figuring it out. Events built around this philosophy attract beginners and creative risk-takers.

Storytelling and narrative. The idea that every model tells a story, historical, fictional, personal. Events built around this philosophy attract historians, researchers, and narrative builders.

Mentorship and knowledge transfer. The deep satisfaction of passing something on. Events built around this philosophy become intergenerational, which is one of the healthiest thing any hobby community can be.

None of these are wrong. But you can’t build an event around all of them equally and do any of them well. Pick one or two. Own them completely.

Why Leaders Hesitate

Most event leaders are humble people. They want to do right by the community. They genuinely don’t want to alienate longtime members or step on toes. And so they manage by committee, defer or acquiesce to the loudest voices, and try to build events that offend no one.

But there’s more to it than humility. There’s real stress. Covering costs is a genuine pressure. Logistics – venue contracts, volunteer coordination, registration systems, table layouts – are genuinely complicated. And when you’re deep in that operational machinery, it’s almost impossible to lift your head and think philosophically. The urgent always crowds out the important.

Here’s the reframe: logistics are hygiene factors. Once they’re handled competently, they stop mattering. They’re the floor, not the ceiling. The philosophy is the ceiling and it’s what determines how high the event can actually go.

And here’s the key insight most leaders miss: worrying about volunteer numbers, attendance counts, and model counts is a symptom of unclear philosophy, not the cause of your problems. When your philosophy is clear and compelling, people volunteer because they believe in what you’re building. When it’s fuzzy, you’re constantly begging and bribing.

“But I don’t have the authority to make unilateral decisions, I’m part of a larger organization.” Authority doesn’t come from title. It comes from vision. When you articulate a compelling philosophy clearly and consistently, people follow. And they also understand lens through which to process the many, many questions, ideas, and opportunities that arise. That’s leadership, regardless of your official role.

What a Hollow Event Actually Feels Like

You can always tell when an event has no philosophical spine. Volunteers show up not knowing why certain decisions were made. They work harder to insert their own ideas or processes rather than learning the existing framework. Attendees sense the lack of intentionality even if they can’t name it. The event becomes a collection of activities rather than an wholistic experience. People have an okay time, but they don’t come back burning to tell their friends.

Contrast that with an event built around a clear philosophy. Attendees feel like they belong to something. Volunteers are energized because they understand the why behind their work. Longtime members become ambassadors, not critics.

The difference isn’t budget. It isn’t venue. It isn’t even programming. It’s philosophy.

The False Economy of Skipping Philosophy

“I don’t have time for this philosophy noise. I’m too busy running an event.”

This is the most expensive mistake a leader can make.

When you skip the philosophical work because you’re busy, here’s what actually happens: you work harder to recruit volunteers, because you’re asking people to help with logistics rather than inviting them into something meaningful. You chase attendance numbers, because word of mouth is lukewarm. You burn out faster, because nothing feels purposeful. And you still wonder why the vibe feels off even when everything technically worked.

Philosophy isn’t a luxury. It’s the most efficient investment you can make. Get clear on your why, communicate it relentlessly, and the operational stuff gets easier, not harder. People show up ready to work when they believe in what they’re building.

“What if I articulate a philosophy and nobody cares? I’ll just look foolish.”

This fear is real. But the alternative (staying vague to avoid judgment) guarantees mediocrity. A clear philosophy attracts the right people and repels the “wrong” ones. That’s a feature, not a bug.

What an Event Leader Actually Does

Let’s redefine the job.

An event leader is not a logistics coordinator. They are not a hospitality provider. Their fundamental job is to set a vision for the future and work on supporting culture change over time.

That means some people won’t understand what you’re doing at first. That’s okay. Your job isn’t to convince everyone immediately. It’s to stay committed to the philosophy, keep articulating it, and trust that understanding will follow in waves. The people who get it early become your cultural ambassadors. The skeptics come around when they see it working.

Think of it like a pastor starting a new church in a new town. Their first job isn’t to fill the pews. It’s to establish the philosophical foundation of what we believe, what we’re building toward, what we stand for together. When that foundation is solid, everything else follows. The congregation builds itself around the philosophy, not around the pastor’s personality or the quality of the parking. Those things disappear, but philosophy takes on a life of its own.

“Won’t I alienate longtime members if I push too hard on philosophy?”

Only if you ignore them in the process. Longtime members are often your most powerful allies: they’ve seen what works and what doesn’t. Bring them into the philosophical conversation early. Make them feel like architects, not obstacles. But don’t be beholden to their history or demands or discomforts. Change always has a price, but it also has some pretty impressive opportunities. Fortune favors the bold, after all.

(I wrote about this recently)

Think in Decades, Not Years

Most event leaders are thinking too small, in this one man’s opinion.

If you just finished this year’s event and you’re already thinking about next year, you’re in the wrong timeframe. Philosophy doesn’t operate on an annual cycle. Culture change takes three to five “attempts” (e.g. years/events/rounds) at minimum. Locking it in takes 5-10 attempts.

The real goal worth working toward is an event that doesn’t need you anymore. Not because you’ve been replaced, but because you’ve succeeded. You’ve built a community so deeply aligned with the founding philosophy that they carry it forward themselves. New leaders emerge who love the vision as much as you do. The event outlasts its founder because the philosophy became the culture.

That’s what Winterblitz and Rocky Mountain Hobby Expo represent at their best: events built from a strong leader’s vision, creating something genuinely new rather than iterating on the same old template. Winterblitz has some fantastic and fun awards they focus on. Rocky Mountain has an amazing approach to how modelers are displayed and how the contest pushes away from trophies and entry count.

“Three years is too long to wait for results.”

Culture change has a predictable rhythm.

  • Year one: you try something new and most people don’t participate, but they see it.
  • Year two: some people join in and others notice the connections forming… and start to feel some FOMO that they didn’t participate/embrace the changes.
  • Year three: it clicks. FOMO pays off and people show up ready to participate so they’re not left behind.

Start Talking Twelve Months Out

Making major changes to a show format isn’t something to stay quiet about until shortly before the event. Start talking it up early. Months early. Repeatedly.

This isn’t about building consensus or getting permission. It’s about giving people time to understand the why before they have to react to the what. When change arrives without context, people resist it. When change arrives after a year of conversation, people are ready and often excited.

Start small and build your advocates. Explain the philosophy. Explain the goals and hopes and dreams. Explain how your three year plan shapes up in your head. Get them to buy into the idea then ask for their help propagating it.

Talk at your meetings. Write about it in your newsletter. Have one-on-one conversations with key members. The more you articulate your philosophy out loud, the clearer it becomes for you and for everyone around you. Directness isn’t unkind. Vagueness, in the name of protecting feelings, usually protects no one, least of all yourself.

The Path Forward

So what do you actually do on Monday morning?

Start by answering one question honestly: What is this event actually for? Not what it does. Not what it includes. What is it for? What human need does it meet? What kind of community does it create?

Write that down. Say it out loud to someone you trust. Refine it. Then start talking about it, say, twelve months before you implement anything new. Seed ideas for the next show at the current show.

Let go of the attendance metrics; if your costs are covered and everyone had fun, you’re good. Let go of the model count as a measure of success. Start measuring whether people left feeling more connected, more inspired, more like they belong to something worth coming back to.

Build the culture, and the event takes care of itself.

Have thoughts on this? I’d love to hear what philosophies drive your event and/or club. Drop a comment below.

And if you’re interested in more specifics, drop me an email at jake@jakemckee.com. I would love to turn your questions/ideas/thoughts/challenges into future blog posts!