My excitement for my first writers conference this past weekend (as I wore my proverbial red slippers) was dashed and I ended up missing the parties, the second half of workshops, and regretfully my pitch appointment. The catalyst that made me miss the most anticipated event in my writing career for the last 6 months: an evil bottle of antibiotic pills with side effects from purgatory. Yes, my yellow-brick road to glory, or at least to enlightenment, fell out from underneath me because of PILLS.
I won’t get into any specifics of what the pills were for or the details of the side effects, but they made me a useless human being who could barely stand. Out of respect for everyone at the conference, I left on Saturday afternoon to wallow in my painful misery. I hoped the symptoms would subside overnight and I could go back to the DFW Writers Conference and my pitch appointment on Sunday, but I was not so lucky.
However, an unexpected and gracious silver lining emerged from my fiasco. My critique partner was also at the conference and she passed along the message to the conference organizers that I was sick and had to cancel my appointment. And from the inner workings of the great Wizard of Oz, the agent whom I waited for months to meet contacted me via Twitter and conveyed her wishes that I feel better soon and hoped to hear from me. In addition, she’s offered to still hear my pitch via phone, a week after the conference has ended.
This particular agent is now my favorite. As much as I respected her before and hoped to become one of her precious clients, that’s only increased ten fold. Whether she likes my pitch or not, she will still be my favorite and I will always hold her in high esteem. The epitome of a class act if I’ve ever seen one.
The brief amount of time I spent at the conference on Saturday was wonderful! I heard Sandra Brown’s keynote address (she is hilarious by the way- if you ever get to hear her speak, GO!), attended 4 workshops that opened my eyes even wider than they already were, and braved the anticipated, yet dreaded, GONG SHOW! This was so cool. A panel of 5-6 judges (all agents or editors) sat up front with their own personal oriental gong. The announcer started to read various query letters that attendees submitted. The judges would ‘gong’ out whenever they would have stopped reading. When 3 or more judges had ‘gonged’, they would explain why they didn’t care for it, and they’d move on to the next query.
This whole process was freakin’ brutal. Anyone who submitted a query subjected themselves to a tremendous risk of humiliation. Thankfully, the queries were kept anonymous, so if you were gonged in the first sentence, no one would have known it was yours. And these agents were hilariously relentless. This became next to a standup comedy routine on several. But one of the great aspects of the Gong Show was how many partials and full manuscript requests came from it. That part was incredible!
I missed when my query was read. But my critique partner said I was gonged after the third sentence. Not terrible. But not great. I clearly have some work to do on my query.
So, *sigh* I have to wait another year to attend the next writers conference in my area. Medication chucked in the trash, I know better for next year. But it’s hard to handle the frustration I feel of how I missed my first beloved writers conference. Have you ever missed a writers conference for something as ridiculous as medication side effects?