Best (of the 3 I've attended) Arkansas Writers' Conference ever

On Friday and Saturday I attended this year's Arkansas Writers' Conference. I was planning on skipping this year to save my time, energy and resources for the New York trip. And then the brochure came, showing Jane Friedman as the featured speaker. Based on that, I rallied at the last minute, cobbled together 4 conference entries (because if I'm going, I'm going to have a horse in the race. It's kind of a thing with me, a strange compulsion that is paired with a need to win leading to a good chance of gloom thanks to only so-so skills in so many areas). April was terrible, my heart wasn't in the contest, and so I had some concerns about how this might turn out.

I'm so glad I changed my  mind. I really enjoyed nearly every minute, and the sessions where Jane Friedman covered the necessities of a query and the future of the book were so valuable. I learned. I loved it. The other sessions I enjoyed because I like to listen to people who are passionate talk about writing, even if it is about crossword puzzles or editing a section of the newspaper or crafting editorials. I like a funny story. I am an easy audience. Some people weren't. And there was a little tension over the future of the book. More on that tomorrow.

10 Reasons this was the best Arkansas Writers' Conference (of the three I have attended):
10. There was cake. I like cake.
9. And also good air conditioning. As it is currently the same temperature as the face of the sun in Little Rock before you add the heat index, good AC matters.
8. Lunch discussion where I explained how I ended up at Leisure Arts seemed to really interest people. I try to avoid being the center of attention, but I find it interesting that people find my job interesting.
7. Knowing the ropes. I ended up sitting next to a couple of fresh faces, people who are just beginning. It is so much easier to pretend you have it all together when you sit next to a beginner.
6. First Honorable Mention for the "breaking through the dog door" date story that I revised to enter into a humorous prose contest. It's good to see that memorable experience pay off in some manner.

5. Third Place in the Humane Society contest for my Darcy story. It started out as the "Devastated" post here. I wanted this award and would have been heartbroken all over again if I didn't get it. Once I did and my sanity was assured, it was all good.

4. Second Place in the "Proud to be an American" contest for an essay about a virtue or blessing we don't want to forget. I picked kindness with a "Golden Rule" twist.

3. Second Place in the Grand Conference contest which wanted a humorous look at how usage of a word had changed through history. I went "tweet" although I toyed with "winning" for a bit. As the Charlie Sheen boat seems to have already sailed, I think I made the right choice.

2. Jane Friedman. Honestly, she made the difference. I've enjoyed the previous speakers but as far as nuts and bolts how-to information, she's the best we've had.

1. Being encouraged. I ran into plenty of people willing to give an encouraging word. I get discouraged too easily. This is the value of a writer's conference.

Countdown to NYC

So I realized in about a month, I'll be in New York for the first (possibly last) time. I have a lot to do by then.
1. Get in shape. Given my long list of phobias, I need to be able to walk for miles and miles and miles.
2. Lose weight. These two work together.
3. Write about 5 million words to get to 50,000 that work.
4. Learn how to ride the subway.
5. Learn how to hail a cab.
6. Hit the lottery.
7. Determine how many sites and experiences I'm going to try to cram into a few days. Museum of Natural History, Empire State Building, Times Square, Central Park...these I think I can get done. What else? Statue of Liberty...not sure I can get there. Purl Soho? Somehow that's higher on my list than other things. Macy's? Also possible.
8. Choose a Broadway show and purchase tickets. Yes, I'm going to buy one show ahead and then maybe think about trying the discount tickets for a second show. This is what the line at the booth looks like. Already I quake. What do you think? How to Succeed at Business to see Daniel Radcliffe? Wicked if you can get even full price tickets? Sister Act? Chicago? Phantom? Rock of Ages won't be running then...Ideas?
9. Find some good shoes.
10. Worry about Jack, cuddle Jack, and freak out once a day for approximately one month.

Somehow, I'm tired already.

Looking forward to...

I made reservations at lunch but not for lunch. First, I got my ticket to ride an aeroplane all the way to Salt Lake City by way of Dallas. I'll be headed there for Spring Quilt Market, a whirlwind trip. I'm also going to the AQS show in Paducah at the end of April: good quilting fun + road trip.

And I thought you could name the direct flights from Little Rock on one hand (not quite, but almost: Dallas, Memphis, Houston, Chicago and...uh, Atlanta, and...).

And add to the list NEWARK, NJ. I know! Who would have thought it? And why would you want to fly in to Newark? A. Did I mention it's a direct flight? That works really well with my crazy anxious weirdness over airports and making connections. But more importantly, B. it's all about some New. York. Ci-tay. I've been flirting with the idea of going for months. And now, I'm going. In June.

This is a picture of the hotel. In Times Square. And the best part is that it's only going to cost me a million dollars. For two million dollars' worth of fun!

That time again, need some inspiration

Since I made the resolution to "write" (I really mean air quotes there as though to say my writing isn't really "writing" in the literary sense but more like fits and starts of beginnery flailing. I hope that gets better some day soon.) more, I've been attending writing conferences. Yes, they make such a thing. I'm coming to understand that few fabulous writers spring up all alone. They are made with trial and failure, painstaking revision, and good editors.

If you've been around a while, you probably remember the first time I won a contest. It's amazing to me every time it happens, even though I am determined to give up forever if I don't win. That's a pretty rocky place to be.

This was the conference where I won awards that convinced me that maybe there might be some day a little bit of tiny hope that I might be a writer (no air quotes). That year the guest was poet Layne Longfellow. Then last year it was a professor/comic book editor/newspaper editor. This year, it's Jane Friedman. She was the editor for Writer's Digest, one of the magazines for writers I peruse often. Yes, they make such a thing. (My family appears a little stumped when I mention things like conferences and magazines for writers...they exist. I enjoy them. I am weird again. It's okay. I asked for a knitting magazine once and got the same reaction so I'm really not alone.)

I visited her site to find out more about her. She started at F+W as a crafty editor. She links to her first project here. The title: Quaint Birdhouses You Can Paint and Decorate

For some reason, I find that encouraging.
I thought I might skip this conference this year, since it's the same month as the big one that I am currently registered for but will skitter out of given half a real reason. Now I'm going to the Arkansas Writers' Conference. So you know what that means? Gotta get some contest entries going...

Arkansas Writers Conference 2010

To be honest, I've really been looking forward to this since the conference last year which you may read about here and also here but I hadn't really decided what to blog here because A. this is supposed to be a Leisure Arts/crafts/knit/crochet/sewing/quilting blog and B. it has been very little about those things lately for several reasons and C. it could easily turn into either a rant about where our manners have gone or a complete exploration of all my angst. But...some of you have asked (and also I don't have a blog topic for the rest of my life if we're going to be all "literal" about what this blog is supposed to be about so it's going to be a take it or leave it kind of situation. I should just apologize in advance).

Here are the facts:
2 days in downtown Little Rock, a Friday and Saturday, so I took a vacation day and spent it listening to writers. The air conditioning was excellent. Well, and the speakers too, but good AC is something I've really come to appreciate. Roland Mann, comic book editor, Werner Trieschman, playwright, Janis Kearney, presidential diarist and publisher, and an essayist, a cozy mystery writer.
Multiple, many well-written entries that won absolutely nothing, zero, zilch, nada. And then a few awards to keep me from flinging myself headlong off of something tall (which I would probably not really do, even in the agony of defeat so no worries, OK?).

What's harder to quantify:
The induction ceremony of Charlaine Harris into the Arkansas Writers Hall of Fame, two days before she had to be on the red carpet in Hollywood for the premiere of the new season of True Blood, the HBO series based on her Sookie Stackhouse books. Why this was so cool...it's hard to say, but the idea that a regular, ol' normal person living in Magnolia, Arkansas, is also headed to the red carpet because she has talent and good discipline (and probably a smidge of good luck if I had to guess), it means something.

Listening to Janis Kearney, Clinton's diarist who now runs her self-publishing efforts and writes, tell her story about being 1 of 19 children from the Arkansas delta and all that she's managed...it's inspiring.

Being surrounded by people (a fair quantity of them a little stranger than I am if you can believe it) who love to do the same things and don't think it at all weird that you spend your spare time writing, that's good. And they also seem to be better adjusted than I am and actually feel pleasure for other writers who win awards (and in my defense...no, I don't have any. Even after I won the long-awaited first honorable mention, I wanted more.)

I have no idea what to think about my awards: second place for a sports story requiring the use of cliches, first place for a Jane Austen story in today's world, and first honorable mention for a humorous story featuring a ghost, vampire, or witch...none of these were the strongest of what I turned in. The common denominator is humor so I know I've got to work with that. Surprise, surprise...I don't really know how to do anything else!

I think it might have broken my brain actually. I had the most exciting idea for the purple paint story growing into a book and yesterday, I just stared at it. I tried willing it to change. I think it's stuck. I blame third person.

Still, two things I keep thinking about:
Marilyn Collins ended the whole conference with a quote from Erma Bombeck:

When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, "I used everything you gave me".

And then I got an email from the leader of the women's ministry that I've been volunteering for, writing a monthly thing, that went out last week. Someone actually opened the email, read it, and...get this, sent in a response! And the timing was just absolutely crazy or maybe absolutely God-like. I wrote about pools and diving in (as a metaphor for getting involved maybe) because I have this obsession with swimming pools lately. It's hot is what I'm saying. Since it's my first positive feedback from someone who isn't my friend, I'm going to share it. Here's her comment:

I haven't attended any of your meetings, but I enjoy being on your email list because of messages like the one yesterday about "Making a Splash".  Having recently learned that my breast cancer (8 years ago) has returned, I have been somewhat 'floundering'. It's been a sort of "what's it all about Alfie" kind of time for me.  The article today hit me just right---I'm going to decide what kind of splash I want to make (or none at all) and go with it.  Thanks for the message!!!

It's a lot to think about. Since I need blog posts and all, I may post some of the entries this week. You''ve always wanted to read a baseball story filled with cliches, haven't you?

Oh, and I'll put a picture in. I left my iPhone at home today. Brain=broken.

Shallow me.

So I was planning to stay here in July at the RWA national conference. I was just starting to feel a little shivery excitement about it after I posted the thing about sending in the contest entries for the Arkansas Writers Conference. I mean I am getting very close to June and thusly to July. I decided to go since it was Nashville, driving distance and all, even though I don't have a completed book or anything. I mean, anything can happen by the end of July, right? After all, I have completed the tour of Arkansas' conferences (all 3 or 4 of them) so a big national thing is the next logical step, right? Probably not, but when have I ever let a thing like logic stop me?

And to stay at the Opryland Hotel? I was so going to do it all in style.

And then the rains came. And Nashville flooded. And the conference is up in the air. And I am sad. First, the news was that they were looking at other Gaylord properties: Dallas, Orlando, and Baltimore. And Dallas would be better, closer to home, since I was going to try to do a crazy thing and drive home on the last day instead of staying and starting fresh...less time for precious Darcy with the babysitter, a little less expensive. Dallas would be better (although being there are worse things than being forced to go to Orlando, even in July). But now, it seems that other locations are being considered. Nashville was just right. I am sad.

And yes, I am shallow but not so shallow that I don't know that I am shallow. Many people are actually suffering from the flooding, not just rearranging plans. I haven't forgotten how lucky I am either.

Here's the thing: I don't want to fly any more than I have to for Leisure Arts: Minneapolis, Houston. I don't like airports. I can't really afford it on top of the registration and luxe hotel fees. I want to drive. Wah! Wah, wah! As my father would say, "What you have here is a high-class problem."

What do you think? Should I just stay home? I'm really too poor to travel in this sort of style anyway. Unless Leisure Arts is sending me, I'm way more Econolodge than Opryland hotel. Or perhaps get a second job to fund my hobbies? Hmm. Maybe just keep your fingers crossed for Dallas because I wanna go (say that in a whiny, 13-year-old girl's voice because I perfected that a long time ago and maybe throw in a petulant kick of your foot).

My list of demands: Diet Coke

I don't know what it is about these writing conferences that I go to, but I always step out of them absolutely certain that I can do this and at the same time certain that I don't know anything like I need to know to do this.

That's OK. This one in particular was fun. Jodi Thomas is just so much fun to listen to. Another funny thing is that I haven't yet met one bestseller that acts like a superstar author. Of course, I believe she makes #4 (Emilie Richards, Debbie Macomber, Laura Castoro, Jodi Thomas...yep, only 4) so this may be like the tattoo question and I just travel in the wrong group.

When I'm a superstar, I'm going to travel with an entourage of at least one. And I will demand Diet Cokes everywhere I go...even in the Pepsi hotels. I'm going to be hardcore that way.

And it was nearly a total bust as far as contest entries go. Clearly, I have to spend more than one night pulling my stuff together. But, thanks to the purple paint story, I did win a second place certificate, so the first spot in my entourage is already filled. And she's very resourceful so I'm sure Diet Cokes will pose no problem.

Saturday was a day cram packed with concrete information. It was so much fun. I may have already forgotten everything I put in. And I sat at a table with two very new writers who'd never been to a writers conference before...so I was the expert at the table. They asked questions. I made up answers. I'm sure they sounded good. I mean, I've been to one whole other conference. What else is there to know?

On the way home, I was so going to write, write, write as soon as I walked in the door. Instead, I read one of the Jodi Thomas books I bought in one long session. Goodbye, Saturday.
Today I've attacked both the laundry needed for my luxury vacation at the lake beginning tomorrow and the contest entries for the next conference in Maumelle. If I don't do better with these, there will be pouting. I felt a pout coming on but it was averted through my second place win. And a Route 44 Diet Coke on the way home. Seriously, Diet Coke makes a difference.

A little enthusiasm, please.

It takes a lot lately to get me wound up. A week off helps.

But what I am really getting excited about is this writers conference that I'm going to tomorrow at Harding in Searcy. "New York Times Bestselling Author" Jodi Thomas will be there and here's the schedule:

8:00 - 8:30 am Registration
8:30 - 8:45 am Welcome and Introductions
8:45 - 10:00 Exploring your Creativity
10:00 - 10:15 Break
10:15 - 11:30 Plotting Session: Finding Your Story
11:30 am - 1:00 pm Luncheon and Contest Awards Ceremony

1:00 - 2:30 Making Characters Come Alive

2:30 - 2:45 Break

2:45 - 4:00 Learning to Fall

I may be able to skip out early because I have a pretty good handle on falling...just fold like a limp noodle to avoid any permanent damage. That's probably not what she means, is it? I am not quite as pumped about the whole 8:00 part (because you know I have to be there early because I'm anxious about walking into the group and I don't need to add any "being late" anxiety on top of that. Plus, it's on a college campus so I'ma gonna be huffing and puffing to walk to whatever building it's in and I don't want to do that in a hurry. Today my legs don't seem to have gotten the message that they should be feeling better and if they don't get with the program tomorrow, I am going to be so ticked).

6:30 will be very early on a Saturday morning, but I have a week of unlimited napping time to look forward to. And I might be inspired to write a little.

Remember?

As I was goofing off last night instead of doing any one of the several things I really should have done (clean, knit, write, stop eating and watching YouTube videos), I ran across this video of poet Billy Collins reading his poem "The Lanyard" and I was reminded again how much I like poetry, particularly poetry like this. And I remembered working with a group of writers in college on the "literary" magazine and how much fun it was. If you think you don't like poetry, try this one.

And for everyone that I've tried to describe the effect of the delivery of the keynote speaker, this won't do it either because it was more powerful in person, but...just in case you wanted to hear a little. If you think you do like poetry and you like it old school, try this one.

And picture this guy, Dr. Layne Longfellow, reading.

Happy Friday!

My first Arkansas Writers Conference: the afternoon

You may not remember but this is the conference with all the contests...for one low, low entry fee. Out of the 36 possible, I entered 8. And at lunch the first day, there was an induction into the Arkansas Writer's Hall of Fame and some of these contest winners were announced. And I wanted to know. I really, really wanted to know whether anything I'd turned in won anything.

I was lucky enough to get to a very friendly table that included some poets from Fayetteville, a prose writer from Fayetteville, a mystery writer from North Little Rock, a history writer from Rogers, and a very nice lady from Malvern who thought I might be one of the actors at the Royal theater here in Benton. I have one of those faces.

And we talked a little about what we write, what we've published (I was quiet), and then the ceremony began to induct Phillip McMath into the Arkansas Writers Hall of Fame. To find out more about him, go here (but if you're from Arkansas, you might recognize the name McMath, maybe not as a writer, but as a governor or in this case a governor's son. I sat at the final award banquet with Mr. McMath, his wife, and a couple of people who clearly had not been to lunch the day before and had no idea. And that's a good thing, because I might have been a tad uncomfortable, but even Hall of Famers are just people and it was a great conversation in which I took very little part and that really makes me happiest because then I don't have to regret all the stupid things I say. You know?)

So, back to lunch. They started naming the awards...1008 entries from 18 states, and then for each individual award, the total number of entries was announced. And I wrote them down. I was being quietly dorky again, but just in case I ever do this again (I will), I wanted to know how good my odds were.

And then I started to win. And when you win, they say your name and city, so it was very cool to hear "Cheryl Johnson (pause) Benton."

First Honorable Mention.

First Place and then

First Place.

And then at the awards banquet I won Second Place in the Grand Conference award.

Oh, and I won a book raffle prize, but no door prizes. I just can't seem to overcome my door prize bad mojo. And then to be approached by other Benton writers with invitations for critique groups etc. I don't think I'm ready for that yet, but it was still cool.

So... now I know...I didn't do so hot with the fiction or the poetry. Essays I did fine, so maybe...I'm an essayist? Or maybe I just need to work more on fiction and poetry?

I was feeling pretty good after lunch. I went to the bathroom and thought that I had actually gotten better looking. And then I realized it was the dim lighting. Every bathroom should be lit like the Holiday Inn Presidential in Little Rock. Seriously.

My first Arkansas Writers' Conference: the morning

I got there almost 45 minutes early. I have this weird compulsion about getting to things that make me nervous early. I don't want to be late and lost (particularly downtown) and add to the nerves. (I've clearly conquered the nerves that work and church used to cause.) That, multiplied by the fact that I've been looking forward to this for some time now, led to an earlier-than-normal-even-for-me arrival. Plus, I can watch the people that go in and make sure I'm dressed properly. I'm not sure what it is with me, probably a lack of fashion sense, but I'm always very sure I'm not dressed properly.

The thing about artistic types is that clothes can run the gamut from creative to comfortable and in Arkansas, jeans are a given. I dressed carefully and comfortably and made my debut. And in my head, I felt conspicuous as I walked to the registration table, like the sign over my head said "not really a writer like you are probably a writer, like with published books and stuff."

There's something about walking into these things alone. Clearly, I would have had less nerves to have a compadre, someone to sit with and talk to and pretend that I'm amazingly popular and well-loved instead of one highly ineffective mingler. Instead, I walked in, found others who had never been to this conference, and totally dorked it up. Quietly. I'm OK with that. I only have one very strict dorkiness policy: I don't want to be the biggest dork in the room. (And really, if no one tells me that I am, in fact, the biggest dork in the room, I'll never know.)

And I've decided that going to a writer's conference isn't that different from the quilting classes I've been to. Except that the writers need to catch on to the need for chocolate. I mean, at 3:00 in the afternoon, there should be chocolate near. And Diet Coke.

I did determine something very important. No one knows you here at this conference unless you're in a writer's group. Or you win awards.

And I am in a writer's group...but not the writer's group. Clearly, I need to determine what I'm going to write and get connected. That appears to be an important first step!

And the awards...well, everything changes when you manage to win an award. I'm pretty sure it only changed in my head, but I think that counts.

I Heart Writers. And words. And also books.

I'm not sure how many of you around here remember this, but I resolved to write my version of the great American novel (or maybe just something that could be published by a small publishing house and sell maybe 3 copies, because surely I know 3 people who'd take my book if I bought it and gave them a copy. Right?). I think I've decided that I'm more of a storyteller than a writer, and one doesn't really preclude the other, but to me the difference has to do with imagination. I tell stories about things that have happened to me. I have less confidence in my ability to create people and inflict some of those same experiences on them. Still, this post has nothing to do with that, so never mind.

This weekend, I did something new in my quest to get my writer's hat screwed on straight. I went to a workshop, sponsored by a local writer's group. And I had Such. A. Good. Time! Really. I did. A great time. There's just something about being surrounded by people who love books and stories and words and this was a room of 50 such people. And the leader was Laura Parker Castoro, a writer from Pine Bluff (that's Arkansas) with 39 published titles. Like, published so that you can check them out from the library or buy them on Amazon. How cool would it be to enter your name on Amazon, my favorite place in the world, and turn up a list of books with your name on them? And she's a real person and everything.

I am a dork. It's OK for us all to admit that. And people who have books out there in the world that people buy leave me a little tongue-tied. (Anybody remember my B&N encounter with Debbie Macomber? I'm pretty sure I don't make a good impression either. Still, Emilie Richards did tell me about a house for rent down the street when I threatened to move to Virginia to be close to all the Pat and Emilie fun, so maybe all hope is not lost. I think I improve on closer inspection. I didn't try my chances with Laura Castoro. Pine Bluff is pretty close. She might worry.)

It was a good day, with conversation on character, dialogue, and plot. She illustrated her points from her own books and from best sellers. And there were critiques of a few short stories. Thank goodness I missed the deadline because the writer had to own up to the story...after the critique. In front of 50 people! Actually, in front of 50 writers! And as I have some idea of the skill of the writer sitting next to me, I'm not sure those stories were representative of all the skill in the room. Flashes of my college Creative Writing course came back and I was reminded why I should never write anything. Ever. Even though those experiences went well...there's always the threat of the next one. Or worse, an unspoken critique, consisting of laughing and pointing. That one's mainly in my head but I think it keeps me from the keyboard.

Fired up by the day, I did manage to write an impressive 909 words though. I'm just burning right through it. Maybe the great American novella is a more likely goal. And a year...well, why rush mediocrity? Or greatness? I figure I've got a 50/50 shot.