by Janis
Patterson
It couldn’t have been any better. A
lovely resort right on the water’s edge in Myrtle Beach , South Carolina
The conference was for Novelists,
Inc, more familiarly known as NINC, an organization of multi-published writers.
I have been a member for a while, but this was the first conference time and finances
allowed me to attend. This was also the first conference where Author Support
Teams (read assistants) could attend – not just professionals who handle lots
of authors, but family members and friends. Professional, multi-author
assistants have always been allowed to come as Industry Guests, and they
had/have a different fee from both authors and AST people.
Yes, The Husband has decided that
my time is better spent writing than doing a lot of clerical chores like
posting excerpts, seeking reviews and tracking sales. (Of course, his decision
was very much urged by me, but in the end it was completely his decision.)
I don’t think he realized how
exhausting writers’ conferences could be. Accustomed to the regulated pace of
military and public health gatherings, he seemed to be a bit overwhelmed by the
frenetic energy of a hotel full of writers.
Generally solitary creatures who sit alone in rooms with lots of
imaginary people, when we writers actually get together with others of our kind
the results are electric. We don’t have to worry about someone calling the cops
if they overhear us talking about the best way to poison someone undetected or
gape in unabashed curiosity as we talk about the tangled lives of our
characters. They are writers, and they understand.
But it wasn’t just writers. Sharing
the magnificent hotel with us was the South
Carolina chapter of the barbershop singers’ (can’t
remember the exact name) organization. Perhaps writers aren’t the only unusual people out there. In the hallway we had to edge our way past masked men singing
cowboy songs. In the morning, in the elevator going down, we were serenaded by
men in tuxes singing Lida Rose. That evening going back up we were treated to a
group in the worst looking arab costumes I’ve ever seen (one was a bathrobe!)
complete with cheesy plastic swords belting out an enthusiastic version of The Riff Song by Romberg. It
was definitely a surreal experience.
The writing workshops, however,
were all business. There were reps from the major self-publishing platforms, a
traditional publishing editor or two, a couple of agents, a TV packager and
more. We had in-depth sessions on audio books, the interrelationship between
story and life, how books become movies, and of course several workshops on both being and working with an assistant. It was all fascinating.
Then there were the Early Bird and
Night Owl sessions. There were several Early Bird sessions I wanted to attend,
and I’m not sure if I did nor not. They begin at 8 am, and my brain doesn’t go
online until 9. I hear they were great, however, and contradicted my long-held
belief that nothing good ever happens before 10 am. The Night Owl sessions
began at 8 pm and ended at 10, and they were just as splendid. Among other
things, I learned secrets of blogging more efficiently and how to use the Tarot
as a plotting device when I’m stuck.
I hate to handwrite anything and
have not yet mastered the art of taking notes on a computer, but still managed
to use almost a full legal tablet for notes. I ran into old friends not seen
for years and met lovely new ones. The Husband and I even managed a few
romantic dinners alone and a couple of walks on the beach. Yes, it really couldn’t
have been any better. The conference was the most professional writers’
conference I’ve ever attended; it was so impressive that we’ve already
registered for next year!
As for The Husband… I think he
enjoyed it. He said he learned a lot. When I asked him what was his main
take-away from the conference, he thought for a minute, then announced, “I’m
glad I’m not a writer.”
