Writers' Conference Joy

 

Writers' Conference Joy

 by Johnny D. Boggs

Today should find me at the Best Western Inn of the Ozarks for the annual Ozark Creative Writers conference in Eureka Springs, Arkansas.

Don’t ask why they keep inviting me back, but I know the reason I make that roughly 1,600-mile round trip every October.

You never stop learning the business, and there are worse places to be than the Ozark Mountains in the fall. 

OCW has been holding an annual conference for 55 years. I forget the year – it wasn’t 55 years ago – but the first time I went was as a keynote speaker. After which, board members asked me to join the board of directors. Pretty sneaky, but I accepted.

After two days of panels and presentations, I was also asked to hand out prizes to the winners of writing contests. Each year, the conference offers dozens of contests, paying prizes from $10 to $300, or certificates for honorable mentions. It would be a treat for the winners, I was informed, to get an award from me.

So there I stood with a certificate in my hand when the emcee announced that first finalist.

For 24 years, I’ve been writing professionally – full time, no real day job, no retirement, no inheritance. I haven’t written anything on spec for years. An editor, publisher or my agent reaches out to me, a deal is worked out, I deliver the manuscript, and deposit the check.

But around this time every year, when I had out money or a certificate and I smile and say, “Congratulations,” I remember.

The first professional byline I got came for a sports article in the Sumter (South Carolina) Daily Item the summer after I graduated from high school. That byline was my payment. Drove 65 miles roundtrip to buy some papers at a 7-Eleven, and when Daddy came home, I showed him the sports cover, pointed at the article. He sat down, read my first journalistic effort, and said, “Well, that’s interesting.”

Mama said: “Read who wrote it.”

“Oh.” Daddy saw my name. “I didn’t even look to see who wrote it.”

Wasn’t the last time something like that happened.

All that evening at my first OCW, and at every banquet night since, I recall sending short stories or short nonfiction articles on spec to magazine editors … trashing rejection letters … collecting my payment of two contributor’s copies … maybe depositing a check for five bucks. I remember the time a magazine offered me a hundred bucks for a short story, then folded before the story ever got published – or I got paid … signing that first book contract … and when I told my dad that I had given notice, was quitting the newspaper game, and moving to New Mexico to write full time. He said, “Well, I reckon you know what the hell you’re doing.”

I didn’t. Still don’t. 

But I love to see those faces on dads and grandmothers and lawyers and schoolteachers, retirees and even young kids who have that same dream, and are excited that someone liked his or her writing.

That’s why you’ll find me in Eureka Springs this weekend.

Level of Squirreliness

Oh never mind spellcheck. I know squirreliness is not a word. It's my own term. It seems to me that we all seek the maximum level of activity we can handle without being overcome by stress. That's your level of squirreliness.

I've reached mine again. Although most of my "stuff" is related to writing, I'm also on the church finance committee and my homeowner's association board. And there's that book study I will help lead. And a number of other things that are clogging the creative flow.

No one ever tells wannabe authors about the business/busyness of writing. It's never-ending and with increased success the pressure mounts. Social media can be a soul-sucker that will drain every spare minute. I once heard a speaker say she set her alarm to wake up every two hours all night long just to keep up with emails and to respond to media opportunities. She looked like she was auditioning for the role of Morticia in the Addams family. She was also very very successful.

Many of the Type M'ers are involved with preparing for Bouchercon which will be help in Toronto this year. I'm going and so looking forward to my first trip to Canada. But I've been involved with the grunt work of conferences in the past and know the effort involved. I've developed spreadsheets, scheduled interviews, organized judging....well you get the drift. The potential for volunteer work is endless. I so admire all of you who are helping with this conference. Whew!

I love writers' conferences. They are a time of renewal. I learn something every time I attend one. I just got back from the annual Western Writers of America convention which was held in Kansas City this. Some of my dearest friends are in this organization. But I didn't get a bit of writing done. I have friends who do, including fabulously productive best-selling Kat Martin who is simply amazing and has over sixteen million books in print.

It was a pleasure to see Johnny D. Boggs receive his seventh Spur award. It's an all-time record. And this man can write!

My built-in high pressure valve is when I can't seem to find time for fresh composition. Therein lies restoration and renewal. The most joyful part of being a writer is the experience of unexpected characters showing up for a book or the ah-moment of a plot finally clicking.

I know how to fool myself that I've spent adequate time on my writing. I can transfer hand written pages to the computer or fiddle with improving a story or part of a book. And spend too much time doing research.

So it's back to reality and saying "no" and resisting any activity that pulls me away from the blank screen.