A few weekends ago, we made our way to Chicago so I could attend a writing conference at the Instituto Cervantes. It was a conference put on by Poets & Writers magazine. It was a good sized group of 50-60 year olds! I was the youngest by at least 10 years, but felt surprisingly comfortable making conversation with other fellow writers and publishers.
We’re a different breed, writers. Quirky, awkward, and yet love human interaction. Often talking in cut-off sentences. We discussed different approaches to publication, contacting and selling our work to literary agents, and why poetry is such a hidden gem (to us poets, at least). There were editors, agents, best selling authors, and college professors sharing the in’s and out’s of the world of writing.
I went into the weekend without much expectation, but left feeling confident in where I am, and my next steps.
Writing is sharing. Sharing experiences, hopes, knowledge, and perspectives. I write because I have something to say. Something that I hope at least one other person can find meaningful.
Words bring us together, they bind us and break us, they heal, they wound, they give simple instruction.
Words crystallize our thoughts, making them recoverable to our hearts.
Sitting in a room with other like-minded people felt good. There was enough energy and passion within those four walls, to go places. I’m eager, but not giddy about the next steps I’m taking. I feel that in the right time, these things will fall into place. I’m thankful for my experiences meeting these agents and editors, and for the insight I gained on that sunny Saturday afternoon.