My own personal heaven here on earth is without a doubt a writer’s conference. The camaraderie from gathering with a group that will discuss with you whether or not chain mail will clank in terminal velocity, insist that your string universe is scientifically and technically a parallel universe, argue about whether or not an iron maiden was actually made from iron or wood, and brainstorm with you about detailed ways to make bare hands a lethal weapon is all scholarly bliss to me.
My body still aches from the twenty hour days the weeklong conference demanded. The Glitter Globe is swirling with colorful data and several new story ideas were conceived and are clamoring to be born. The instant cohesiveness and fellowship between all genres of writers, from bonnets and buggies to science fiction, was unexpected and inspiring. The kind-hearted open sharing of technique and experience is for me a highlight of being a writer. These are my people. Can I get a Hallelujah?
And can life possibly be groovier than introducing your imaginary friends to real ones?
“Hey! I’d like to introduce you to this guy I dreamed up while sitting alone at my computer for a couple of years!”
“Dang. Nice to meet ya. Uh, Steph? He’s a bit too perfect, he needs some flaws.”
“No problem, he’s full of flaws, he just looks perfect.”
“Oh, he sure does… hmmmm, scar him up a bit though, he shouldn’t look that perfect.”
“It’s kind of a shame, but all right.”
*Me inserting some twisted old battle wounds*
“Wow. He looks good in scars.”
“I know, right?”
I can hardly wait for the next conference. In the meantime I’m back at The Glitter Globe working hard, all by myself, just me and my flawed characters. Yeah baby. I love my life.