Dear Writergirl,
I’ve decided it’s time
to go to writing conferences to help me polish up my writing and find an agent.
But there are so many–how do I decide which one(s) to attend?
to go to writing conferences to help me polish up my writing and find an agent.
But there are so many–how do I decide which one(s) to attend?
Sincerely,
Almost Ready for
Publication
Publication
Dear Almost Ready,
You’ve gotta love the writing life. You live in your head –
flipping words, swapping commas, conversing with people who say what you tell
them to. Every so often you meet up with a real person, someone you didn’t make
up, and you mention you’re writing a book. “Nice,” she says. “Cool.” Then she
quickly changes the subject.
flipping words, swapping commas, conversing with people who say what you tell
them to. Every so often you meet up with a real person, someone you didn’t make
up, and you mention you’re writing a book. “Nice,” she says. “Cool.” Then she
quickly changes the subject.
Never mind. You’re comfy in that mental turret otherwise
known as your book. Comfy, that is, until presto change-o, the end’s in sight,
and now you have to get out and SELL THAT BOOK.
known as your book. Comfy, that is, until presto change-o, the end’s in sight,
and now you have to get out and SELL THAT BOOK.
A cruel irony, yes, but getting out is in fact the best way
to get your book before readers. And once you adjust, it’s actually kind of fun
hanging out with people who understand that it’s a really big deal that you’ve written
a book.
to get your book before readers. And once you adjust, it’s actually kind of fun
hanging out with people who understand that it’s a really big deal that you’ve written
a book.
They get it because they’ve written their own books and they
want agents too. There is generally a little schmooze-festing at a writing
conference. But I’m not worried about you, Almost Ready. You understand that
conferences are about relationships: you and your book, you and your fellow
writers, you and (you hope) an agent. You’ve got realistic expectations.
want agents too. There is generally a little schmooze-festing at a writing
conference. But I’m not worried about you, Almost Ready. You understand that
conferences are about relationships: you and your book, you and your fellow
writers, you and (you hope) an agent. You’ve got realistic expectations.
And yet – and yet – you’ve heard how so-and-so found her
agent at thus-and-such conference, and now her book has topped the New York
Times list of bestsellers for, I don’t know, 386 weeks. Is it so much to ask
that when you step into an elevator, your dream agent is there (heck, go for real
luck: the car gets stuck between floors), and by the time the doors open, she’s
signed you.
agent at thus-and-such conference, and now her book has topped the New York
Times list of bestsellers for, I don’t know, 386 weeks. Is it so much to ask
that when you step into an elevator, your dream agent is there (heck, go for real
luck: the car gets stuck between floors), and by the time the doors open, she’s
signed you.
You’re level-headed, A.R., so you’re not choosing your
conference based on the number of elevators in the hotel (though you practice
your pitch, just in case). You know what you want: to polish your work and to
land an agent.
conference based on the number of elevators in the hotel (though you practice
your pitch, just in case). You know what you want: to polish your work and to
land an agent.
Now take the long view. Though you have no idea where the
money will come from, pick your top conference out of each of three types: the
industry conference, with a focus on publishing; the genre conference, with a
focus on your kind of writing; and the juried conference, where you’re accepted
based on the quality of your work. Maybe at one there’s an author or editor you
hugely admire. Maybe one’s in a place you’ve always wanted to visit. Maybe one’s in your area.
money will come from, pick your top conference out of each of three types: the
industry conference, with a focus on publishing; the genre conference, with a
focus on your kind of writing; and the juried conference, where you’re accepted
based on the quality of your work. Maybe at one there’s an author or editor you
hugely admire. Maybe one’s in a place you’ve always wanted to visit. Maybe one’s in your area.
Don’t worry. I know you can’t afford three conferences in
one year. You’re a writer, love. Make a three-year plan, or if you can only
scrape up the cash for one conference every two years, a six-year plan. The
point is, think broad and big. You’re in this for the long haul.
one year. You’re a writer, love. Make a three-year plan, or if you can only
scrape up the cash for one conference every two years, a six-year plan. The
point is, think broad and big. You’re in this for the long haul.
Whatever you choose, A.R., be yourself when you get there.
Don’t be put off by a few writers who run around with BUY MY BOOK stamped on
their foreheads. They’re still adjusting to life outside the turret. Have fun.
Learn all you can. And go ahead, skip the stairs.
Don’t be put off by a few writers who run around with BUY MY BOOK stamped on
their foreheads. They’re still adjusting to life outside the turret. Have fun.
Learn all you can. And go ahead, skip the stairs.
Truly yours,
Writergirl
publishing, or anything else to Writergirl at askwritergirl@gmail.com. Don’t be shy
– your identity won’t be revealed.
Good advice, thanks!
And there's also the idea of going to a conference not to sell anything, but just to meet your tribe, and spend time in the wonderful company of other people who take reading and writing seriously. It's possible to come away with new lifelong friends, especially if you end up ridesharing, roomsharing, or just hanging out.
Aside from that less-commercial comment, I love the idea of a 3-year or 6-year plan. Good advice, Writergirl.