Agonies of a Young Author

The first day I was a skittish, chapped lip mess.

The second day I spent entirely turned to the right, presenting only my profile to the speakers, even if I asked a question, because I went swimming the night before and had a clogged left ear I couldn't hear out of.

By the third day, I had caffeine overdose headaches (I HATE 8 am mornings, and this was my sixth in a row) and spent the entire class hour playing the 30 second Bejeweled demo on my phone over and over again on because I was just. that. damn. desperate. (pencil-cum-stylus in one hand and one hand clutching the handle of a coffee cup).

I love conferences, but I love leaving conference just as much. What starts out as an adventure buoyed by spastic adrenaline degenerates into the stupid-stubborn persistence of a wild-eyed animal backed into a corner-- twitching, growling, trembling, bristling, and rolling eyes with the whites showing.

Information overload is dangerous. Being brain-fried can be hazardous to others. General surgeon's warning: Avoid writers at closing ceremonies. They bite.

Now, I need time to process.

And get that finger away from me! If you don't, I'll...

*chomp, chomp, chomp*

(blink, blink) Whoops.

Write now:
What I'm listening to: Ouran High School Host Club anime (it's research. no, really, it's research)
What I want most: to got to bed. It's 8 pm. I'm pathetic.

I admit it-- I'm an elitist misanthrope. And nothing makes me hiss and spit with ruffled fur faster than other writers.

I'm not sure why writers as a particular breed can drive me crazier than a young kid on caffeine (with a puppy), but every conference I realize this.

Disclaimer: Writers are fascinating individuals, but get hundreds of them in limited square footage and those intriguing quirks turn into rage-inducing tics.

I both love and hate writer's conferences.

I'm the kind of girl who hugs that shadows in the back corner of the presentation room, claiming the same seat panel after panel. I listen, take notes, and write. I'm not particularly interested in promoting myself, and only somewhat in talking to people. I'm really bad at talking to people. Two or three will stand out, and I will consider approaching them. Maybe. If the right opportunity comes. If they are alone and bored, and if they casually catch my eye and seem willing to chat.

I'm not particularly shy, I just think that sometimes

I'm totally shy, in the sense that I don't like putting myself out there. I'm more reserved than inhibited, but either way, it means that I'm pretty quiet. I will talk to people, it's just hard to do.

I asked for the business card of one of the panel presenters today. This is a. big. concession. I also asked a question in a Q&A, talked to an editor at breakfast, exchanged business cards with another Y.A. writer, talked throughout the entire luncheon with both an older gentleman and an alum from my college, and asked questions after two classes.

Whew. So I have come out of today with two/three people to email and try keep in touch with. Eep!! o_0

However, insightful self-reflection can't erase my elitist tendencies.

I mean, people, you're writers. You CAN'T possibly think that you pronounce it JOHN-ruh. Genre, people, genre.

*snort* Writers. You love to hate them.

Write now:
What I'm listening to: Cell in the Sea by A Fine Frenzy
What I want most: an agent. lol.

My lips were chapped and burningly propelled me through the conference in search of relief. I also had coffee breath, and tried to avoid any contact within five feet of other attendees. For their own benefit.

So dry-lipped and sleep deprived, I navigated my way through maze-like hotel corridors and past clumps of women waiting for the restroom into ballroom- cum -classroom after classroom.

First on the agenda, travel writing. Informative, and thought-provoking after my finals-caused Serengeti of a brain. A few good tips, lengthy notes, a resource to follow up on, and the idea that full time travel writing might just be the career to pursue. Because, hello, who wouldn't want to get paid to travel?

Next, character motivation. At first I was hesitant, thinking "I know my characters!" but it was a good decision. First, the speaker was HILARIOUS. The entire class was in stiches the entire hour. And she used examples from the audience's WIP to illustrate her points, which I thought was a genius move. And I came away with a few little a-ha! moments about my WIP that will really help develop it.

Then lunch on our own, and my antics as I got lost in the north, south, and east directions before finally figuring out that I needed to go west to get to the grocery store. And my explorations of an industrial town set smack dab in the middle of Amish country. Rolling hills, red barns and cute white farmhourses, then a power plant and a paper factory. Very interesting place.

Then back to the conference for a conflict panel, which had to be one of the best classes I've ever had. Again, the classes are never about large neon sign secrets saying "Follow this and you will be published!!!!!!" but little epiphanies that allows you to salt in the memorable details. After this class, I really understand how to actually follow through with conflict and tension, rather than just creating one more dangerous situation after another. Really great class, and the speaker was really good. Tim Esaias teashes at Seton Hill, and I admit, it's kind of tempting to check into the MFA program there because of him.

Then a class on YA writing, with two realizations. One, I do really like YA, and it's what I truly want to pursue (not solely, but seriously). And two, a published author does not a good teacher make. And vice versa.

Then I went back to the room, and thinking about the stuff that Tim Esaias said about conflict, wrote what is probably one of my best scenes and probably will end up as part of the climax in my WIP. WAHOO!!! I'm really excited what today's strageties can help me do.

Well, actually, not straight back to the room. There might or might not have been a detor to the local (amazing!) mall to go buy a swimsuit so I could take advantage of my pool-side hotel room. But then, I admit nothing.

 Write Now:
What I'm listening to:the TV-- Criminal Minds reruns! Wahoo!
What I wnt most: my room service to get here. Hazelnut encrusted salmon with raspberry glaze. YUM!

Conference! Conference! Conference! I wanna go to a conference!

Ah! I discovered a writing conference just a bare 3 hours from my campus, and I'm so excited. I wanna go to a conference!

The keynote speaker for the F. Scott Fitzgerald Literary Conference is Azar Nafisi, author of Reading Lolita in Tehran! And listen to this: Pulitzer-prize winner Henry Allen will moderate a panel discussion on Literary Border Crossings. The afternoon panel will include authors H.G. Carrillo (Loosing my Espanish) and Olga Grushin (The Dream Life of Sukhanov).

SO excited!

And there are two workshop sessions available! One in the morning, one in the afternoon. I'm thinking that I'll do Short Story Style and Writing the Novel.

Ah, so excited!

Well, off to do some research/ sign up/ convince the parentals that I should go!

Right now:
What I am listening to: n/a- too excited!
What I want most: to go to the writing conference!

No, no, not the little black dress, but the little black book. Okay, well, perhaps not so little, but my new journal (which comes in at a smidge over 8 1/2 x 11) is definitely my favorite "go-to" item of the moment.

For my Life Writing class I have to create a journal-- normal enough, considering that I am in a creative writing class, except this has to be a visual art journal. While words and writing have their place within this journal, they take a distinct back-seat to collage, sketches, photo montage and other forms of visual self-expression. All in the form of a journal, so self-reflection is key. At first I was a little skeptical, and thought it wouldn't add anything meaningful to my life, but then I went shopping at Barnes and Nobles for my journal. Tired by the long day of class, frustrated at the bookstore's inability to stock my textbooks, I was ready to grab a $1.50 lined spiral bound notebook and call it a day. Then I decided to wander over to the art department's section, and fell in love with a hardcover sketchbook-- with black pages. The unusual color grabbed my interest and must have sparked some sort of creative bug, since I bought it without hesitation and have hardly put it down since. The need for nontraditional decoration (I can't exactly write in it with a normal black ink pen, now can I?) has really shaken up the mental cobwebs. The first page I drew with metallic gel pen, the kind that was all the rage in the elementary school era. The next page I used white-out. Yes, white-out, drawn in diagonal stripes. Then colored pencil, that shows up against the black in varying degrees of success. And then gum wrappers, flattened out and glued to page, the bight silver metallic gleaming beautifully against a field of black.

I'm really starting to love this journal. And I can delude myself into thinking that this, really and truly is homework that I'm doing, because I really and truly actually have to turn it in for review.

See why I love being an English major?

Right Now:
What I'm listening to: "Sweet Dreams" by Beyonce
What I what most: more time.