I Yam What I Yam...

So I’m off to a big writer’s conference. Seminars, schmoozing and sensory overload… if you’ve ever been to one, you understand. If you haven’t – well, if you want to write, you must; if you don’t want to write, there’s no point, so you can stop right here.

At any rate, this one is a biggie for me.

Five years ago I went to my first writer’s conference in the wonderfully iconic Southern city of New Orleans. *sigh* (I adore N’Awlins - even now, after Hurricane Katrina has laid waste to large parts of it. The Garden District… the above-ground cemeteries… the quirky residents and ridiculous, far-too-drunken tourists… the food… the upbeat, yet undeniably morbid atmosphere… ah, but I digress.) I went to that conference knowing NOBODY. Knowing NOTHING. Except that I had an urge to write. It wasn’t enough to hear, “Oh, Terri – that article you wrote for the corporate newsletter was so good! That letter you wrote to the editor was exactly what I was thinking! Is that really how you spell ‘idiosyncrasies’? I had no idea!” I wanted to write something people would read. Would enjoy. Would think about after they closed the book and stuck it on a shelf somewhere.

And now, five years later, I’m going as a published author. Okay, a pre-published author, if you must stickle the point. (From one stickler to another, go ahead--it makes us feel better :) ).

I’ll be meeting people I previously had no access to: big name authors, literary agents, booksellers from chain stores like Borders and Barnes & Noble, sales reps from big publishing houses, public relations people, etc. I’ll be talking about ‘positioning’, marketing, future projects, trends, numbers, reviews, covers, and all that jazz. In between all this I plan on having some serious fun with the people I’ve met and giggled with over the years, both at conferences like this one and over the Internet. (The Writer’s Playground rules, ya’ll!!)

Anyway, I’ve planned my wardrobe to the N’th degree. I’ve made my lists and checked them twice. My shoes are cute and my files are organized… my house will (hopefully) not get blown away by a summer hurricane* while I’m gone and my animals won’t starve.

*Note to teenager: NO PARTIES!

Wish me luck. I’ll need it.