Everything Is Different Now

I went to my first writers conference in, it must have been the spring of 2006. The San Francisco Writers Conference. I knew not a soul, not a single soul. But it was in my home town, and it looked like it would be a reasonably good conference, so I thought it would be a smart thing to go to.

Well, I hated it. The not-knowing-anyone thing was awful, and the fact that it’s a general con for all kinds of writers–nonfiction and lit fic and self-help and everything–meant that, when you’re standing around introducing yourself to people, and they all tell you what they’re writing, and then you say, “I have a witch novel,” they all look at you like you made a rude noise, or a smelly mess on the carpet.

But someone there told me about a con that was better suited to weirdos like me (though they didn’t put it quite that way)–Writers Weekend, in Seattle, a few months later.

So I signed up for that, and I thank my lucky stars that I did.

In Seattle, I still didn’t know a soul, but I met this nice guy at breakfast. Turned out he was from San Francisco too. He was getting married the next month, so it wasn’t anything like a pickup–but he invited me to join his crit group, pending approval of the other members. That was Doctodd, my great good friend and writing buddy/collaborator.

His crit group welcomed me in, and they all told me about NaNoWriMo. So that November, I did NaNo and wrote EEL RIVER. And went to the retreat, and met a whole bunch of other cool people, and got invited into a second crit group–the Zombie Club.

Slowly, I started to know more writers. I went to a few more cons and retreats and whatnot. Little by little, more of my social life tended to include writers, or be made up entirely of writers. Slowly, bit by little bit, I stopped having to explain what kind of writing I did; or that yes, I have more than one novel; or that no, it’s not a vampire novel.

Writers Weekend had a tiny spring retreat in New Jersey that Doctodd and I went to. That was the first time that I recognized/remembered/knew people that I had met before, at other cons. That I felt like maybe there was a *community* here, and that I might someday be able to become part of it. (That’s also when I got an agent, who I later parted ways with…but that’s another story.)

Then Karen discontinued the Writers Weekend cons and organized a small retreat at Iron Springs, in June of 2008. I already knew at least half the attendees there…and that’s where I met Jay.

Talk about a whole ‘nother story. Anyway.

Last year at World Fantasy, Jay introduced me to the many thousands of people he knew. He welcomed me into his social scene, his milieu. It was FANTASTIC, and a little overwhelming. I made sure to take plenty of down time, and writing time, but still, wow.

This year, and my life changed…and I started going to LOTS more cons, with Jay. And meeting lots more people. And seeing them again, every few weeks or months. And adding them as friends on LiveJournal, on Twitter, on Facebook. And the community grew.

At WorldCon in Montreal, I knew so many people. We walked into the party bar and were able to choose which table to sit at, because we knew people at every one of them. We had a full schedule, with lunches and dinners and even some breakfasts planned out in advance, because of all the people that needed seeing. Even so, I made sure that I did my yoga in the mornings, and also wrote, before setting out into con-land.

Then Foolscap and SteamCon…small cons, fun. Met more people.

And now World Fantasy, this last weekend. It was insane. It was ridiculous. It was so much fun. We were so completely overscheduled, 100%, start to finish. There were so many people I knew and wanted to talk to, people from overseas to meet, and not enough time to see them, to even finish a conversation. The same thing happens every time I get married*: there’s all these people to connect with, who have come from so far away, and they’re only going to be here for a short time, and it’s all over too fast, and then they’re gone, and there were more people I didn’t even get to see, though I know they were there. Local people I don’t see enough of, that I kept waving at as I ran by, on my way to somewhere else. I did no yoga. I got no writing done. I didn’t even keep up with my email. I had Such A Wonderful Time. I am still recovering.

Yeah. Everything is different now. I love it.

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*Only twice, but, still.