Last weekend, I went to Shreveport, Louisiana, to attend a conference for romance writers. I had gone to this event maybe fifteen years ago and remember feeling like such a newbie, quivering over my speech, but having a blast with some amazing people. My colleagues have been as well, and they always come back with raves. I knew I was in for fun (and work, too). As usual, I went through my pre-flying rituals:
1. Freaking out
2. Packing and re-packing
3. Picking out a Steven Seagal movie to watch but then opting for Sons of Anarchy instead–sort of same thing (bringing out inner warrior self)
4. Looking at husband, possibly for the last time (since I could die) and feeling that if I did plunge into a land mass due to engine failure, I’d have absolutely no regrets. Everyone knows I love them.
Oddly enough, this time, I had no flying terror since I’d spent most of the week on weather.com, ensuring perfect plane vistas from my window seat. Because I’m a spaz and superstitious, I don’t eat while in transit (since eating brings on wild turbulence and the universe operates based on my actions always) so I arrived in Dallas famished but ready for my next flight. Alas, it was cancelled. Luckily, the conference organizers had a nice lady ready to drive me to my final destination. My luggage decided to stay in Dallas until the evening when it magically appeared in Shreveport.I didn’t know this until later that evening, after visions of sleeping in my business clothes and wearing them again.
After a mini-road trip, I arrived only to set down my purse and run to be on the editor/agent panel. I’m not sure what I said that evening, but it was lovely to look out into the audience and see three of my authors–Lenora Worth, Beth Cornelison and Farrah Rochon–smiling at me. They gave me hugs of sympathy, though by that time, I was deliriously happy to be on the ground. A lovely agent loaned me her brush. My author gave me some toothpaste and the nice lady at the front desk passed me other supplies. Oh right, and I was hungry-ish, but too rattled to eat. After twelve hours on the road, I went to my room and just collapsed. At 10pm, my luggage arrived.
The next day, I felt amazing with the post heinous travel glow of gratitude and did a “Chat With” workshop. Most of the questions involved preparing a good pitch, how publishers feel about hybrid authors, deal breakers in a submission to an editor, how can writers improve their work. There’s no substitute for being able to engage with writers face to face. For a few hours, I also did appointments, which I’m hoping will yield some great projects on my desk (e-reader). A nice perk–there were snacks everywhere and I indulged, making up for my travel hunger strike. Hurray for bags of snacks!!!
The conference ended at a nice dinner with my authors. I gave up giving up gluten since bread must be eaten sometimes. No regrets, especially since the next day promised rain for my journey home. Memories of bread, amaretto house cake and enthused writers got me through those jerky moments in the clouds. After lugging my suitcase up five flights of stairs (our elevator is out for three months), I opened the door to find my favorite guy and my favorite foods waiting for me.
Though depleted, I always return from conferences energized. It’s a festive time for both introverts and extroverts to bond over their craft. Only 4 months until RWA…