It’s been a week now since I left the conference, but some things are so powerful that it takes a while to let it all sink in, to let it simmer, to find a way to absorb and process all that I learned.
My journey began a few weeks prior to this conference, when I was awarded a scholarship to attend if I would cover the cost of getting there, room and board. Though getting there proved challenging because of the Ohio/Pennsylvania Turnpike that required $35 in cash only toll charges each way, I made the ten hour drive with just enough time to change clothes in my minivan and freshen up a bit before my first class began.
My first class was on “practicing your pitch,” or finding a sentence or two to sum up our book ideas when presenting them to editors and agents. The instructor was brilliant with her questions, playing Devil’s Advocate and shocking us all into silence while we stammered through the reasons why we were writing. I came out of that with a much better idea of what I was hoping to accomplish, and a keen awareness of how ill-prepared I was for what was to come.
There were about 300 of us in attendance, all hoping to accomplish the same thing-drumming up interest in an unpublished book that we have already invested years of our lives to write. And if there is no interest, there is no hope for publish–ment.
I can only describe the appointments we had with the experts as speed-dating; there were 30 tables in one large room and we took turns sitting down in 15 minute increments to discuss the possibilities. It was nerve-wracking, and at times, as equally uncomfortable for the experts as it was for us.
But after going through five of these appointments, I can only view it as a success. One person spent several minutes with me, after pointing out how my book needs to be refocused, telling me that I was on the right track and brainstorming with me on ways to market it when finished.
“Those who persist, eventually become published,” she said, giving an extra bonus of just what I needed to hear.
“You have the heart and eye of a writer,” said another, “but there are some things I would change.”
“I’d be interested in seeing your proposals when you are finished, but for today, can I pray for you and your journey?” asked an agent, who had the sweetest spirit of anyone I had ever met.
“Do you know how many people this could help, if it is written in just the right way?” another responded.
“Do one new thing each day, and you might just find yourself with a writing and speaking ministry,” said another.
“Writing is a gift; a responsibility; a chance to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves. It’s not about your story as much as it is about your reader,” said the speaker in one of the keynote sessions.
I could go on and on if I took just a minute to review my notebook full of notes. So much meat that it takes a while to chew it all.
Basically, I have much to do but met a lot of great people who can help me get there, when I’m ready. They said not to rush it. The process is slow, and you only get one chance to debut.
“Make it count,” they told me.
It was everything I needed, and so much more. I was more than intimidated, but tried not to let it show.
Because I was on a scholarship, I felt as if I owed it to the man who sent me there, Cec Murphy, author of the book 90 Minutes in Heaven, to take advantage of every opportunity given to me. I spoke to strangers when my shyness told me not to. I avoided awkward lunch and dinner moments by asking these experts about their lives, their families, and their journeys. I attended every session possible, and absorbed it like a sponge. I was determined to make Cec, a man whom I have never met, proud of me.
And I was forever changed.
Maybe what changed is knowing someone important believed in me. Maybe I understand now that the written word can outlive all of us, so not writing is no longer an option. It’s not about becoming famous, and definitely not about becoming rich, but rather about the process of always becoming more than you were before. Writing things that touch the heart of my readers, and helping them to become more than they were before as well.
Honored. Humbled. Hopeful. I’m ready to get to work.
Thank you so much for being there,
Janet Morris Grimes
