Writers Conferences

Although I mentioned a bit about the recent NINC Conference I attended in St. Pete Beach, Florida, I wanted to add some more now that I’ve been back in the Fall of the Midwest. To wit: how some writers’ conferences end up sending me into a blind panic, into major insecurity about my creativity and abilities, and. . . why this one was different.

I’ve thought it was the location. I mean, shoot, shugah, there’s nothing like being on a gorgeous sugar and beach with brilliant blue skies and more brilliant blue water slurping at the sand. Restful. Of course the smell of pina coladas, aka sunscreen lotion, was a nice sense memory, too. But I do think the location, at least for me, contributed to the mindset.

The size of the conference was also conducive to thoughtful discussion of what’s going on in publishing, what it all means, and whether or not tweeting is essential to selling. Kind of is. As is the whole digital movement, but that’s another story and, I think, one that in another situation would have made me vey anxious and scared.

But not at this conference where the mood was optimistic and energized. Was that the result of the terrifically knowledgeable industry people there? I think that was part of it, sure, because to a person, everyone seemed hopeful about what’s ahead for the world of stories even despite the faster than Superman speed of change.

Part of it, too, was the chance to spend time with writers who weren’t pitching or promoting. That may have been the loveliest aspect as everyone was more low key, none of that desperate look-at-me, look-at-me intensity.

I loved this conference more than any I’ve been to in recent memory. In my Best Three Conferences, in fact.

At any rate, I’d go again. In a heartbeat.

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