A Flurry of Activity:

DFW Writers Conference

I should have a post up on the DFW Con I just attended in May. It was awesome. I didn't overextend myself and sign up for a bevy of stress-inducing and draining workshops. I signed up for a pitch session but instead of pitching Snow, which wasn't finished anyway, I had a nice natter with Margaret Bail from Inklings Literary Agency.

The workshops I attended were great. Though a series of domestic snafus I missed the pre-conference workshops I had paid and signed up for. Ugh! But I did catch Donald Maass at his presentation/workshop on Micro-tension. "Rock Star . . . legendary . . . no pressure. . ." Wonderful presenter. Those are his quotes, by the way. He made me laugh out loud then preceded to rearrange some of my thinking. And, yes, it was his pre-conference workshops I missed. Darn it!

I must have added a dozen folks to my Twitter account and it seems, in the aftermath of the conference, I've been added to a few. The fact makes me blink. My Twitter account was started for fun and I was thinking about starting a strictly professional one before the conference. Too late now.

But I must say I enjoyed and learned more at this year's conference than I did the one I attended last year. Maybe it was because I didn't overextend myself. Maybe it was because, once faced, some of my anxieties were gone. Maybe it was both. But I think it simply felt different and I can't quite put my finger on it.

Now I'm waiting on the announcement for signing up on next year's conference. And, if anyone reading this pitched at the conference, the purple Hershey's kiss scattered on the tables in the waiting area? That was me. :) An act of encouragement, support, and pure fun. You're welcome. Next year? Absolutely. My pleasure.

WriteClub 2014

Yes, I'm participated, with what I consider a vengeance. Not one entry. Not two entries. Oh, no, I had to send in three entries. I posted this self-made meme on my personal Facebook earlier this week.

 

 

Will I make it into the ring? I don't actually think so. I really don't. There were over 150 entries at last tweet. It would be flattering in the extreme but not going to happen. Funny thing. The rules stated you couldn't submit anything previously published---and this blog counts. So I had to pull out work from my project list, not my current WIP. All of them rough drafts hastily edited. But, on a cheery note, I found the courage to submit some of my writing to a bevy of professionals, which is a biggie for me.

 

Along with that I have applied to join a critique group. I can't talk about it right now. It's in process so I will maintain silence until I hear something. Yeah, that took either cockiness, courage, or chutzpah, too. What can I say? Sometimes I'm full of it and sometimes I hide under the table, shivering.

 

Off to New England

 

Now I am in the midst of preparing for another trip to New England next week. I will meet up with friends, many of who write. We will chatter, laugh, go new places and old, discuss books and ethics, and take pictures. I will come back with some of the latter, memories, and perhaps some new poetry. Yes, I will be writing while I am there. I need to warn them.

 

I will be writing and tweaking a couple of blog posts to be published while I'm gone. I'm not certain of Wi-Fi coverage everywhere I will be going.

 

Now there is more writing to be done, lists to make, laundry, packing, a little shopping, and, if time allows, maybe some baking. After that----------more writing.

 

 

 

 



An English Confession

Yes, it's confession time.

I always hated the analysis of literature in English, in particular the words theme and symbolism. I'm sure there were others in the mix. What is the theme of this story/book? What does it tell us? What I kept hearing was theme = meaning. I just wanted to read the story---not analyze it for meaning and I certainly didn't care what the rose bush beside the steps in "The Scarlet Letter" symbolized. I really didn't.

The insistence of my English teachers (hush, Barry, you taught me Spanish!) on all of that turned me completely off literature, especially in my senior year. My teacher was very sweet but I learned to loathe Thomas Hardy. I passed primarily because I could, as the old saying goes, : if you can't dazzle them with brilliance---baffle them with B--S--. 

No, I was not a good student and I doubt if any of them ever thought I would persue a writing vocation. Seriously. Well, except for Mrs. Langley in junior high. She was the one who encouraged me to continue writing poetry and tried to get me into honors English in high school. It didn't happen.

I took a journalism class but dropped it after one semester when I found myself tooling around town selling ads for the yearbook to local businesses. Journalism is a business; I do understand that. But there were never any classes--no instruction whatsoever.

College was much better. I flew through Basic Comp I and left the instructor wondering why I was taking it. Simple answer: it was required for my major. It seems a lot of students were having trouble writing a coherent sentence. I was having a problem with boredom. Technical writing was required for my nursing major and I did well in it but it was boring, too. Creative writing I and II sparked my interest at last; I did well there because I liked what I was doing. I was writing a story. That was fun! No searching for meaning, no analysis pending, no symbology necessary. Just tell the story!

No, I'm not writing the Great American Novel nor do I have any ambition to do so.  I will simply write the best story I can, put my heart into it, and leave the reader to decide if it speaks to them . . .  and all that theme and symbolism stuff.

“A book is never, ever finished. You simply get to a point where you and your editor are reasonably happy with how it is and you go with that. Left to our own devices, a writer would endlessly fiddle with a book, changing little thing after little thing.”
― Kimberly Pauley


Yes, I'm in the throes of revision and understand that quote far too well!