The long con

So we’re talking conventions. Cool.


I love conventions. I tend to be an extrovert by nature, so I love the hustle and the bustle of it all. Yeah, for the first year or so it was a bit daunting–I didn’t know a lot of folks, and I didn’t want to leech on to the folks I did know too tightly, so there was a lot of walking around, feeling a little (read: a lot) out of place. (Luckily for me, my husband goes to cons with me, so I always had him to hang out with.) I’m not usually a wallflower, though, so it didn’t take me long to introduce myself to some people, meet their friends, and stalk them all online. Before I knew it I had become a part of this really great writing community. Sure, there are folks I don’t like. Yeah, when I go to cons I still feel like a nobody when Big Name Author walks down the hall. Sometimes I feel like my break will never come. Those moments are becoming fewer and farther between, though. Every convention I attend cements my place in the writing world a little bit more.

The best side-effect of cons, though, is the rejuvenation I feel afterwards. Without fail, I leave a convention inspired to write more, push myself, get the next book finished and out the door. And getting the butt in the chair is what it’s all about, right?





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