My First Writer's Conference — the highs & the lows

This past weekend, I did something brave. I did something that I almost wanted to back out on several times because of my anxiety. I went to a writer's conference where I didn't know anybody. And to top it all off, I was the youngest person there.

That was my first obstacle. Everyone there already seemed to know each other. Everyone had met each other from other events or had been in each other's critique groups. To say I felt left out would be an understatement. But I did my very best to put myself out there and I met a couple really nice writers who let me hang out and learn from them. I got out of my shy shell, and initiated conversations and started asking people I didn't know about their writing processes.

I pushed through.

One of the speakers there talked about negativity, and it was so applicable to what I was feeling right in that moment. She talked about how our brains are inherently negative, and I was sitting there with thoughts telling me I didn't belong there. Almost everyone at that conference had an agent and was published and had success at some point in their writing career. So what I did was instead of bask in how unexperienced I was, I thought of the things I had accomplished. I did get some publications even if they weren't deals, and I loved writing just like they did. The one thing we had in common was a passion for words, and that was enough. I used my passion to connect with the other people there. I didn't by any means meet everybody there, but the fact I walked out with two new writer friends is enough for me.

In every story, there's a climax, where that conflict hits its max. And I hit it the morning of the pitch appointments. Sure, there had been some hard moments before, but the workshops and all the wealth of information I was learning was canceling them out. Plus, I rehearsed my pitch with some other writers, and I was feeling good prior. I had even planned pitching a different book, but after letting others know about my idea, they all got excited about it. I told them about my dystopian and immediately knew that was the one I needed to pitch. Sometimes spontaneity is the way to go.

So I walked in after hearing so many people's encouragements. Everyone there was so nice to me, and some even went out of their way to tell me they admired the courage I had at my age to put myself out there. One of them said it took her to age 40 before she got the guts to query. They were so supportive of me in letting me know to never give up, and being positive. One woman, after I told her I wasn't published, made sure to finish my sentence with a "yet." And so they built up my confidence. I was feeling so good.

And then I went in there to pitch my book. I'd never pitched before and researched all I could and asked what to do. And I'd been told to have an elevator pitch and then just have a conversation with the agent while they asked questions about it. But the second I got there and said hi, and gave my pitch, the agent got silent. Really silent. Pretty sure we were just staring at each for three seconds straight. And so internally I freaked out, convinced myself she hated it. She asked for the pages which was nice after I gave my pitch, but afterward, I asked if she had questions and she said no. I panicked. I asked her questions about the industry and such, but she didn't have answers that led to discussion. I started wondering if it was me or if we just didn't have a connection, or if it was my pitch, or if it had something to do with someone that pitched before me. Then I panicked as I saw others pitching for longer, and thought maybe I had it wrong and I was supposed to pitch more than an elevator pitch. She did ask for pages, I did get interest, but the pitch itself made me feel like it was the equivalent of her taking her invitation to submit back.

I ended up thanking her for her time and leaving after there were still like 7 minutes left, just because I needed an escape to get out of there. That was how awful I felt. I'm saying this to let others know they aren't alone. Sometimes things don't go as planned. I ended up crying in my hotel room and skipping the other events that day, other than going to the workshops. And it was my low moment of the conference. It was the moment I almost convinced myself publishing isn't what I should be doing. I was so hard on myself.

But then the conference went on and I talked with others, and they comforted me. The speech inspired me. Beverly Jenkins gave the speech and in it she talked about courage. She recited, "Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'"

It felt like it was said for me. It felt like a sign. It reminded me that even though the pitch wasn't what I thought it'd be, that I tried my hardest and that I would try again and again. There would probably be more bad pitches after this one. The fact I went to the conference in itself took courage, and so to other 22-year-old writers like me, I encourage you to attend a conference! It may seem like you aren't ready for it, but it's something that can help improve not only your writing but your strength as a person. I learned so much, but most of all, I learned to count my efforts as wins.