Here’s a guest blog I wrote for Gail Anderson-Dargatz about the value of attending writing conferences:
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https://www.gailanderson-dargatz.ca/cms/index.php/resources/35-guest-blogs/326-shawn-l-bird
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Do you have a writing conference that has changed your life? Tell me about it in the comments below!
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I’m always happy to present at conferences, too, so if you are an organizer, drop me a line.
I’m home after 3 days of hanging out with talented writers, still-not-acknowledging-they’re-writers-but-wishing-to-be, and lots of lovely volunteers, readers, and so on that fill a writers’ festival’s workshops and events.
If you have never attended a writing festival, here’s what goes on at the best of them, in my experience:
A few years ago, Sylvia Taylor told me that the writing life is about reaching down and reaching up. We share what we’ve learned and pull someone just beginning up to greater skill and confidence. We sit at the feet of masters and are stretched to grow a little more. A conference is a great source for this.
Sometimes, conferences yield contracts. (Surrey http://www.siwc.ca is particularly good for this).
Usually, conferences yield contacts. New friends and introductions to publishers/agents/editors are not uncommon.
If you haven’t been to a conference, take the leap. There is something for all levels to learn. At the very least, being with ‘your tribe’ is a wonderful thing. Who else can relate to your habit of writing all night? (Charles De Lint, Diana Gabaldon, and I all write after midnight. We’re not alone!) Who else can appreciate the voices in your head that you need to record? Who else can offer tips and suggestions to move your project along? Who else appreciates the significance of a ‘send the full manuscript’ in response to a query? Who else really knows about this mystical journey to make worlds out of nothing but imagination and words? Where else do you belong?
I took a few things out of this year’s Word on the Lake. I attended a workshop by Anne De Grace on Writing Critique Groups. I have wished to be part of such a group for a long time, but hadn’t formulated the vision. This gave me concrete ideas. I kept my eyes open, and approached the first person I thought would also find value in such a group and be an asset. She agreed. So we will keep our eyes open for a third, and see where it goes.
I’m filled with words
Your words.
My words.
Our words.
A story concocted in laughter.
A story unraveling fears.
A story exploding conjecture.
A story that brings forth your tears.
I am filled with our words
softly spoken
I am filled with our words
shouted loud
I am filled with our words
barely whispered
I am filled with our words
lacking sounds.
Your words.
My words.
Our
story.
.
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Enjoying a lovely weekend with amazing authors like Charles De Lint, Kathryn Para, Anne De Grace at the Word on the Lake Writers’ Festival. Collected a lovely certificate and cheque for a writing contest prize, as well. 🙂
So welcome are you
the eagle soars to your window
and grebes dance across the water,
all eager to hear your
words on the lake.
I woke this morning
pleasantly foggy and
imagined my day.
What workshops will I attend?
Yes. That one. This one.
Then I stretched my mind
into clarity and realized
conference is over;
everyone has gone home.
It was a melancholy moment,
before the smile,
savouring memories.
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A memory like this one. My dear husband, grinning broadly with Diana Gabaldon beside him outside the conference banquet. This is the first time he’s met an author whose work he admires. I’m laughing because I just had to sprint down the hall to get into the photo. Despite being with Diana all weekend and snapping many photos of her with/for other people, this moment was the only one I had taken with her myself this year.
P.S. The counter says that this is my 1400th blog post. Nice to celebrate with two of my favourite people! 😉
I’ll be referencing this in one of my introductions of Diana Gabaldon this weekend. Workshop? Key note? Banquet? Come to Word on the Lake Writers’ Festival in the Shuswap this weekend and find out which!
I miss my tribe.
The house is full of pessimistic
scientific thinkers.
I can’t coax them into poetry.
“I just can’t appreciate it,” says one.
“Poetry. Yeah. Whatever,” says the other.
They analyze and ruminate with
cold logic.
They don’t hear the wind’s song,
or feel the blackbird’s call.
I am a lone poet boat tossing
on their scientific sea.
But soon, my tribe will come.
I will be immersed in the language
of verse, pressed into prose.
I will know the companionship
of a crowd of like minds,
feeding on the energy to
fuel our words,
until we come together
again.
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Just 2 weeks until Word on the Lake Writers’ Festival here in Salmon Arm, BC
I’m looking forward to learning from Diana Gabaldon, C. C. Humphreys, Gary Geddes, Ursula Maxwell-Lewis, Carmen Aguerra, Carolyn Swayze, Howard White, and more! It’s always a fantastic weekend for a bargain price. You should come. Seriously.
I am here
to listen.
I want to savour each word
of the story you create
to make meaning of the world.
I am here
to listen.
I want your words to come
clear on the air
to my ear,
each one a gift.
I want to listen
So speak your passion
in whispers and shouts
enunciated
truncated
dissipated
like leaves in fall
wisked away by wind.
I want to capture each one
so your story
becomes part of my story,
so I can raise my voice
sing my song,
tell my tale.
We share together:
I am;
hear.
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Tonight I was at the Shuswap Association of Writers Coffee House, presented annually in conjunction with Word on the Lake Festival of Readers and Writers. I heard some amazing writers and poets read, some were easier to appreciate than others. I like when the poet savours his/her words, and crafts the reading like a performance piece, so you can experience the poem. I dislike when a poet tosses off meaningless dribble, and then explains it, and the explanation is a better poem than the poem, itself. Bad form, famous poet, bad form. There was great stuff to enjoy, though, as there always is.
Shawn L. Bird 