I went to my first official writers conference this month. I say “official” because it was a three day conference with workshops, keynote speakers, meals, awards, and networking opportunities in addition to pitch opportunities. So many opportunities, lol.
Back in… 2017 I think, I went to a half day pitch event in San Diego that was touted as a conference. In one room there was a guy talking into a microphone about how he got his book deal and in another room were literary agents taking $20 to hear pitches. Not exactly the same thing as a writers conference, but I was new to the world of publishing with a shiny, new manuscript, so what did I know? I’m no longer new to the publishing world. I’ve known for some time now that this event didn’t count, but writers conferences can be expensive and require travel, and I was doing fine making a little home for myself and my stories in the writing world. Who needs to congregate with her own kind IRL?
Me.
Pick me.
When I learned in August that my book, Clever, Cursed, & Storied, was a finalist for the 2024 Praiseworthy Award in Adult Science Fiction/Fantasy, I realized this might be as much invitation as I’d ever get to dive into the deep end of writers conferences. Award winners would be announced at a Gala the Friday night of the conference. My sister lives 20 minutes away from the venue. How many times does a writer get to congregate with her kind, see her sister, and potentially get an award all in one weekend? Never. I signed up, bought a plane ticket, and showed up at my sister’s house the third weekend of October.
Sometimes you don’t know what you’re getting into, until you’re there. I had some pretty hefty nerves the night before the conference. “What have I done? What am I doing?” Lucky for me, my patient, kind sister took me out for some girl time. We stopped at a Suss Cookie Company right as it was closing and bought them out of their GF macarons (easy to do at the end of a business day), but I couldn’t resist an old fashioned frosted sugar cookie.
I’m the type who loses her appetite when she’s anxious, but then after the nerves subside becomes ravenous. So I tucked my frosted sugar cookie away in my tote bag for the conference the next day, a safety cookie. An “incase of emergency, break seal and devour” cookie. Cookies and I go way back. We’re good friends, and everyone needs a friend when they do something intimidating/scary/different for the first time.
The conference was great. I met lots of amazing people, including some I’d already become friends with digitally. I was inspired by lots of amazing literature and art. I networked. I took notes. I got some valuable and validating feedback on some of my work. If you are thinking about attending a writers conference, I think it is a worthwhile experience. Also, it is overwhelming. I tried hard to be present instead of overwhelmed, but I definitely had moments were I was weepy in the bathroom or off in a corner quietly crying.
My Aunt Grace tells me that this is normal and well document for first cons. It is overwhelming to be an introverted little pony and then show up at a space where there are hundreds of magical creatures: unicorns, pegasus, gryphons, phoenixes, dragons, in addition to much prettier, flashier, fully-grown horses. I’m running the risk here of writing a second Horse Opera, so I’ll get to my aunt’s point, which was not to determine a pecking order. The point was also NOT to network or pitch, but to measure your _own_ growth. Look how far _you’ve_ come. Look how _you_ can turn a pitch with a publisher into a professional conversation. Look at all the tools _you_ have to evaluate character, plot, and story that you didn’t know about back in 2017.
And while a safety cookie may not look like a valuable tool to most, it is definitely one that I prize when it comes to my personal, literal, and metaphorical bag of tricks. I opened up my tote, saw my safety cookie and smiled a few times throughout the conference. Which sounds absurd, unless you’ve got the lived experience to know that low blood sugar, stress, and a little self care in the face of anxiety is enough to push you into the camp of I’ve-got-this.
My book took second place at the Gala. I’m a proud award-winning author, with the paper to prove it.
I wonder what 2017 Amy would have said if we told her that her manuscript (after lots and lots of revision and professional editing) was going to win an award at the next/first official conference she’d attend seven years later. Knowing me, she’d probably have two dozen different questions and a lot of emotions. So let’s not tell her. She’s got a lot of growth and life to live between 2017 and now. But I know she’d be proud of my footwear.
Because of course I wore a peacock feather gown and a pair of ridiculously high heels to the gala.
Don’t worry. I changed back into my boots and unicorn (even ponies are aspiration) socks before the night was over.
And as for my safety cookie? I pulled it out and considered if it was time to break the seal on the afternoon of my first day, but instead snapped the picture at the top of this blog post. The safety cookie made it with me until the morning of my second and last day of the conference. It was delicious and well earned. I’m heading to another writers conference in February 2025, the LTUE Symposium, where I will be both a panelist and fangirl. If you see me there, ask me about my safety cookie. I’m pretty sure having one on hand is going to become a conference tradition. So too may the celebratory box of baked goods when it ends.
Or maybe just a celebratory cookie.
Happy Halloween, everyone. May you ever find the courage to rise up against the spookier parts of your lived experience, and may the comfort of friends and cookies abound.