Thank you, Mary Thompson, for urging my return back to California. If I could stay here, surrounded by these amazing people, I would. But once the conference is over and the halls are empty, I’ll return to Catford Manor and the High Desert.
There is only one other attendee who came as far as Beckie and I did to attend this conference. She came from Washington State.
New people are amazing. I have friended and been friended by more like-minded souls than I knew existed. So many are my favorites. So many are saying, “I need a friend like you!” and I’m honored and blessed and humbled and intimidated and flying high and feeling like the most successful trapeze artist ever. I feel free and safe all at the same time.
Tonight I’m particularly blessed by Cara, a young woman who adopted me as her big sister. And Alycia and Edie who are on faculty. And Jeremiah and Alex who stay up late playing games. And so many, many more. This feels like an acceptance speech. And it is, sort of. An acceptance of who I really am, who they’re letting me be.
Today I told Aaron, “This place is like the Willy Wonka Factory for Writers. And I’m after the Glass Elevator.” It brings out the best in us, for us.
Writers are a distinct group of professionals who choose to help each other succeed however possible.
My battery is getting low and the charger’s on the other side of the room, and my legs are somewhat angry at me for doing so much walking. . . so tonight will have to be another photo essay until I write a longer post tomorrow.
Today I learned about freelance editing (thanks, “Sis”!) and Social Media (I’m doing it right already!), and why and how to enter contests.
Tomorrow (Tuesday) is more advanced editing and media, followed by three faculty one-on-one’s. I’ll be speaking with an agent, publicist, and editor.
Followed by the Genre Night Procession. I get to dress up as my Genre. I’m not sure I can pull off a desperate New Orleans transplant but I’m gonna try.
One last photo. This one takes the cake. This guy here? Reminds me so much of my Uncle Roger who I speak of, whose logo I manipulated for my own New Inklings Press logo, whose sense of humor and care for us “young ‘uns” is comparable. His name is Ron, but I can’t stop calling him Roger.
Oh, and the blog post title? When it’s late and you’re around a group of tired writers, these are the things we come up with to nibble on.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!