Howdy, squiders. I didn’t forget you this week.
I was recently discussing my lack of in-person writing groups, and how I’d like to do some networking, and it was suggested I go to our local writers’ conference to see who I can find.
(I do have my in-person critique group, itself a spin-off of an in-person group I joined a little over ten years ago. When I joined the group was quite healthy, consisting of 15-20 people of varying levels of experience, from award-winning traditionally published authors to people who had never completed a draft, and we met every other week for a few hours to discuss storycraft. The guy running it left, and over time it dwindled away and is now essentially defunct. I had another in-person group that met once a month, made up of people who all were actively publishing or trying to, but it didn’t really survive COVID in the same capacity. Also the person leading that one moved away, in what is apparently a trend.)
While writing is mostly a solitary activity, having a writing community is almost essential, I would say. Even the great writers of older ages had friends or groups they met with. CS Lewis and Tolkien were infamously friends, after all. Writing communities can give you feedback, help you hone your craft, hold your hand as you try new or difficult things, and pick you back up after disappointments. They can also provide opportunities for publication that you might not have otherwise had. I can think of at least two anthologies that I have stories in because people from my writing network reached out to me.
So it always helps to do some networking and connect with other writers.
So the big writers’ conference ’round these parts is Pikes Peak Writers Conference, hosted yearly in Colorado Springs. I’ve gone three times previously, in 2011, 2012, and 2017. In general it has been a useful experience, with a wide variety of panels and opportunities to connect with editors and agents. It could be, in theory, a good place to make new writing friends, people who are focused on bettering their craft and getting their work out into the world.
But I find myself leery of the idea. The conference in 2017 was not a good experience for me. I found several of the panels repetitive, telling me information I already knew. I had several disappointments trying to connect with agents, and got so frustrated at one point I may or may not have laid on the floor of my hotel room and cried.
In retrospect, I have to wonder if my experience there led to some of my trepidation about working on my main project in the years that followed.
There are other considerations as well. The conference is not cheap, and in previous years I have gone with–and shared hotel costs–with friends. I took a look at the agents and editors on the conference’s website, and not a one is looking for speculative fiction. If the panels were repetitive seven years ago, will they be more useful now, because it has been seven years, or will it be more of the same?
And, perhaps the biggest consideration of all, do I trust myself to actually try and make friends? I have traditionally stayed pretty close to the people I came with, and perhaps other people I know from other groups or places, and I suspect most people do travel in groups. Will I talk to new people, or will I just sit in the corner and be useless?
I’m leaning towards no, this isn’t the right answer. I might look at the other local writers’ conference, Colorado Gold, in the fall, but it’s on a bad weekend so also may not be doable. I’ve never been to that one, so if nothing else, it would be something new.
I could also look farther afield, and consider writers’ conferences in other states, but that doesn’t help me network with other local authors. (I don’t think I’d do a virtual conference at this point–they rarely have ways for you to connect with other attendees.)
So, alas, I think it’s not the answer. I shall have to think of something else to do.
See you next week, squiders!
