I went to a writing conference last week, and I have a lot to say about it. Most of it I won’t actually say—not because it’s terribly scandalous but because it’s positive* and thus boring. But I’ll say this: Writing conferences are very different from blogging conferences. Blogging conferences are wine-fueled bacchanals where you’re constantly gasping, “I recognize you from twitter!” and “I know I haven’t met you, but we’re best friends!”
Writing conferences are all about getting published– which is great– but it also paves the way for fringe elements to creep in and lure desperate victims into emotional pyramid schemes.
Hold on, let me back up and be less dramatic: Beware of Cool Guys in T-Shirts who pass out Kool-Aid so you can line up and plug the massive gaping cavern of their souls.
Wait. That wasn’t any less dramatic.
Here’s the thing: Writers are often needy. It’s hard to want something this badly and work this hard (while balancing your day to day life that has nothing to do with writing) all while dreaming of the moment you’ll be plucked from the dirty masses and placed on a golden throne with a sign that says YOU ARE WORTHY YOU MATTER YOU ARE A WRITER.
Except this is all in your head.
No one is hoarding golden tickets. You don’t need cosmetic surgery for your personality or to learn Jedi mind tricks in order to woo a literary agent or editor into handing you a rose at the end of the episode. They’re humans, just like the rest of us: They buy clothes at Target and drink out of water bottles that haven’t been washed in far too long.
But of course we don’t want to believe that. We’re scanning the room for someone who can MAKE US without realizing we should be MAKING OURSELVES.
And now we circle back to the opportunistic bearers of Kool-Aid: Literary Little Fingers are taking note of this perceived caste system. They hear the chaotic heartbeat of writers– VALIDATE ME lub dub VALIDATE ME lub-dub—and they’re like:
Do me a favor, all of you: When someone pats their knee and says “sit down, tell me where it hurts, tell me all your deep dark secrets,” then UNLESS THAT PERSON IS YOUR THERAPIST AND THEY HAVE RELEVANT LETTERS AFTER THEIR NAME you need to exit stage left while screenshotting and texting your friends about how someone is trying to abduct you into a cult.
I get it, I really do. I want someone to tell me I matter and my book is good and I’m worthy of my ambitions and that the eclipse endowed all INFJs with mystical powers to unlock their greatness, etc.
But can we all agree to please stop looking for validation and self-acceptance from other people? It’s not fair to the people we put in those roles (literary agents, spouses, friends, bosses) and it’s not fair to us.
Want to be seen? See yourself.
Want to be heard? Hear yourself.
Because there’s a pretty good chance the person who’s mining soundbites of your most cringe-worthy vulnerabilities is actively trying to convert you into a paying customer for a product that doesn’t exist.
One more thing, since apparently this is Writerly Festivus and my list of grievances is as long as a Westerosi winter: One of the speakers said this to a crowded room of people who spent over $1k to attend a conference about publishing: “None of you in this room are the next Veronica Roth.”
I’ve never read one of Veronica Roth’s books, so I don’t know if I want to be the next her (pretty sure I want to be the first Aussa Lorens…) but you know what I’d be willing to bet the naysayers told Veronica Roth? “You’ll never be the next JK Rowling.”
F that noise.
Instead of walking around with hat in hand, trying to master the right amount of quirkiness + timeliness + human appeal, let’s all do this: Put work into the things that matter.
You probably shouldn’t take advice from people who don’t have a demonstrable record of knowing what they’re talking about, so maybe disregard everything I’m saying– but I have a theory: If you want to get a book deal, the thing that probably matters most is writing one hell of a book. I think I’m allowed to say this because I’m reigning Queen of Putting Energy Into Writing-Adjacent-Pursuits-That-Aren’t-Actually-Writing. I’ve fallen into this trap so many times I should eminent domain the territory and start taxing people who dare to encroach.
Learn from my self-induced and unproductive panic: Write your book. Flee from snake oil salesmen. Develop a real understanding of what it is YOU actually want, and stop thinking anyone else is the key to getting whatever it is you want.
You are the key. You are the gatekeeper.
Now, buy my book for $30 and sign up for my webinar that’s only $759 to the first 200 attendees.
*I’m going to list the great things about the conference in the first comment. It could probably be its own post, but I had a point to make in this one.
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What about Santa? Can you sit on his knee?
Always. Actually, I just saw him doing an illegal turn into Whole Foods on Saturday. So he’s around.
He was shopping at Target, after being told *Don’t shop at Walmart, you’re being a Dick*
Okay, this is my favorite thing you’ve ever written. Not because it’s the most salacious, because we know THAT isn’t true or that it’s the most entertaining. But this told me what I needed to hear. I really REALLY needed to read this. Thank you, gorgeous.
Everything Michelle perfectly said. Nothing to add, carry on.
Awesome things about the conference:
1. Meeting Laura Zats from the Print Run Podcast– I’m a Podcast junkie and they are one of my favorites. I’m not much of a fan girl but I was pretty stoked.
2. Meeting people in general– it amazes me how other people are able to just approach a group or table and be like “Hi!” One of the nice things about being “a part of the writing community” is that I can be sure of knowing people in advance of stuff like this. So I can insulate and not feel on my own. I’m not sure I would have the guts to just walk up and introduce myself to people. Endlessly impressed.
3. Hearing people talk about their stories is fresh air to the dusty tomb of my writing soul.
4. Steven James’ sessions were phenomenal. I would listen to him talk for 8 hours straight.
5. Mandi, Hedia, and Angelle. There’s nothing better than being able to roam around and court adventure with friends.
6. Hearing Janet Reid aka The Query Shark speak. She is hilarious and helpful and it’s refreshing to spend time with someone who is so completely who they are. I also liked watching her shut down some brown-nosing pickup artist type guy who raised his hand just so he could tell her he was going to buy her first drink at the bar. She was like “I bring my own liquor” and pulled out a flask. Standing O, Query Shark.
My favorite part is the entire conference was that she didn’t play into the “buy your first drink” comment and went even further to not even answer the question that followed. And also Christian Grey in a clown costume.
Are you pitching nonfiction or fiction? There’s a huge difference out there in the publishing world.
“the dusty tomb of my writing soul” is my new favorite phrase. 🙂
1. This is super-on-point, not just for making art, but all of life. Choose yourself, and stuff.
2. I promise to buy your book as soon as it becomes available and pay $30 even if you price it under that.
3. My 9-year-old (I’m a bad father who lets his kid watch things that are a bit too mature for his young, iimpressionable mind) is obsessed with the Maze Runner movies, so I ventured a guess that he might also like the Divergent films. Last night, we watched the first one (I realize the Veronica Roth-penned novel is probably better than the film–I actually did read “Insurgent” and didn’t hate it). Once the credits started rolling, my son–a 4th grader–said “Well, that was a big waste of my time,” as if he’s invoicing $150/hr. or something to play iPad games and watch YouTube. He’s a total penis 100% of the time he’s not being wonderful. Anyway. RE: Veronica Roth. Yes, F that noise. We must embrace being ourselves.
4. I keep trying to come up with some kind of “do you have a master beta reader sign-up form for your book?” joke that DOESN’T come off super-creepy and disgusting. Still failing. But since I have a high school kid’s sense of humor I had to get it out of my system somehow, and mentioning it here was the only way I could be sure I wouldn’t blurt one out in an afternoon work meeting in some brilliant moment of toilet-humor clarity. You know the ones I’m talking about–the ones you think of just as some department head or C-level asks you for an update on some project, and you don’t hear them ask the question. Because of master beta reader jokes. GOD.
On the brighter side, your son isn’t a total vagina , whenever he’s not being wonderful.That would be okay too, as long as you knew he was going to come at you with that.
This post is astonishing. I mean, coming from you. So now I’m really hoping that there will be a book!
You are the KEY.
You are the Gate-Keeper.
LOVE))!!
Hmm… looks like I’ve got to get myself to a blog conference.
You got it, Aussa! I have never attended any kind of conference, blogging or writing as I’m old and broke so thanks for telling me what it’s like. (It’s like I figured it would be). And……you are so right on point! I am probably your second in command of doing everything else BUT writing. We really should form a group. 😉
I have never believed someone else was in charge of my destiny. Only ME. We are each in charge of our own. We don’t put in the work and the effort and the dreams, well it just don’t happen. I HATE when someone gets up to speak and says first out of the box….”This room full of people will never be anything but ordinary.” How the hell do they know? Just because they are ordinary doesn’t mean the whole room is. So like you say F* em.
I think the “No one in this room…” thing is meant to be a goad, but I wasn’t there so how would I know?
You sound like you have a real grip on this now, things don’t care how we want them to be, they just are.
So was this conference perhaps why Angelle posted on her blog again after all of this time?
i think this is all good advice. would you have ever thought that you’d be the voice of reason?
No.
Let me go do something stupid and thoroughly document it with my iPhone whilst brainstorming witty narration.
Totally agree with you about Steven James. Freakin’ amazing. Lots of phenomenal info and highly entertaining….down to earth and realistic. Same for Janet Reid’s “I bring my own liquor.” Best line of the whole conference!
Thank you.
Take my money!!
I’ve been to two writing conferences. The first was like the one you went to, where it’s all about getting published. Oh sure, there are sessions about the craft, but ultimately, everybody is there with the hope of finding that agent or publisher who will recognize their literary genius. So, not for me. The second was much smaller and devoted almost entirely to the craft. Yes, there were some sessions about how to get published and those types of things, but the entire morning of each day was spent in a small writing group critiquing a story that each participant had submitted for review. It was one of the best writing sessions I’ve ever been in. The group was led by Peter Orner, a published novelist and short story writer and was really, really good. If I ever go to another writing conference again, it’ll be the second type. And in case you’re interested, it’s the Mendocino Coast Writer’s Conference — you should look it up.
I know I’m only the Duchess of Putting Energy Into Writing-Adjacent Pursuits That Aren’t Actually Writing, but this was timely for me.
Well, a lot of it was. I mean, I haven’t been throwing down conference money or anything, so I missed out on the really slick pervs (I’ll sit on just about any knee, I have no standards) but I did ditch a toxic “mentor” a few months back in favor of actually Doing Things… More recently, I’ve decided that I needed a schedule to keep me focused on doing things in such a way that they actually get done. Basically, I just need to keep checking in with whatever realization or crisis you’re having, because it’ll hit me next.
You’re my emotional weather channel!
Mine too! If Aussa’s finger gets wet, I’m crying and the gremlins are about to strike HER. Wait, that didn’t sound as victim-y as I’d hoped.
Why is it at every. single. publishing session at writing or blogging conferences they tell you the same thing? It’s a giant “don’t bother” from all the folks in the front of the room who somehow got their book deal and now assume that it’s impossible for any other person to get a book deal. Maybe because the truth is that there are no good sessions at a writer’s conference that will actually help you get published. What I’d LOVE is for a writing conference to sit people down and workshop their stories, train them on crafting great pitches to agents, and then great pitches to publishing houses, and give them the resources to find the right people to pitch for their genres. None of those things are guarantees that any of the writers in the room will see their byline on a shelf at Barnes & Noble, but at least it gives them something more useful than, “Give up this pipe dream and go get a stable job in accounting.” My parents told me that FOR FREE nearly 20 years ago.
I think I’m going to start a writing conference.
If I could hit a *like* button for you, I would.Sign me up for the millionz too.
That literary expert who said, ““None of you in this room are the next Veronica Roth”? Someone needs to tell that asshole that it’s IS. “None” is singular. None of you IS. And then tell them to fuck off, because they know nothing. Also, who the hell is Veronica Roth?
You rock, Aussa. Even if this book you’re writing is a disaster, you still rock. (I’m not saying it is; I’m kinda talking to both of us here!) And the reason you rock is that you ARE a writer, never mind who does and doesn’t “validate” you, and I’m really glad that you’re kicking off the tangled mess of neediness and expectation that we all wind around ourselves if we’re not paying attention.
I agree, that was not the most helpful comment. But none means both “not one” and “not any.” As “not one” it takes a singular verb, as “not any” it takes a plural verb.
Not one of you in this room is the next Veronica Roth.
Not any of you in this room are the next Veronica Roth.
Mean, but not grammatically incorrect 🙂
Aussa, I love you! That last part made me literally LOL (and I hate that term). I have long noticed the remora of the literary world promising the one sure fire way to get published if you just buy my “How To” book to the promise land for only $29.99 and the soul of your first born child. Spot on! Keep doing what you’re doing. 🙂