Confessions of a Conference Virgin: Day 1 of the Philadelphia Writers’ Conference

I have to admit to being nervous about the Philadelphia Writers’ Conference. It’s the first conference I’ve ever been to, so I didn’t really know what to expect. Plus, I planned to pitch to an agent there, so I carried the knots in my stomach until my appointment time!

Day 1 of the conference was great. In a highly inspirational opening speech, author Solomon Jones stressed the idea that words matter by sharing how writing literally saved him from a life of addiction and homelessness.

The 3-day workshops have been equally informative. There is a little something for everyone: Memoirs, Poetry, Flash Fiction, Nonfiction, Romance Novels, Contemporary Short Stories, Screen/Play Writing, Novel, and YA.

I have heard good things about most of the 3-day workshops, but I have only experienced 3 of them myself. In Novel: Plot, author Kelly Simmons explored a non-outlining way of approaching plot – her list of 7 Cs: Combustion, Coordination, Conflict, Character, Conclusion, Completion, and Commitment.

In Novel: Character, author Gregory Frost explored what it takes to create compelling characters. Today we talked about the importance of “telling details” to show what the character is like instead of reverting to intrusive author explanation.

I had to leave in the middle of Greg’s class to go to my agent pitch. My nerves almost got the better of me while I was waiting, but once I met the engaging and enthusiastic Sarah Yake of Frances Collin Agency, my fear vanished. I count that as a successful pitch, especially for my first time pitching!

Then it was on to the YA workshop, where author Catherine Stine spoke about the different levels of children’s literature from picture books through upper YA, and how writing for those markets differs from writing for adults.

Finally, I took one of the single-day workshops: Jennifer Holbrook-Talty’s Perfect Pitch/Query. She pounded this cardinal rule into our heads: Who is your protagonist, what do they want, and why can’t they have it? This is the beginning of every successful pitch of any length.

The one-day workshops also cover a wide variety of topics: Pitch/Query; Libel, Privacy & Censorship; Writing for New Media/Webisodes; How to Get Your Own Column; Beating Writer’s Block; Op-Ed; Marketing Your Work; 13 Tips and Tricks; and a Closing Panel – Publisher’s Insider View.

My head is spinning with so much information, but I can’t wait for Day 2 and 3!

The Confidence Game

“Fake it ʼtil you make it,” advised our Act Like A Writer instructor, Jonathan Maberry. Instructor Keith Strunk showed us how to use body language to hide our nervousness and appear more at ease. Although that sounds like they are teaching us deception and downright fraud, they are not.

They are teaching us confidence.

Scientific evidence demonstrates that when you act confidently and put your body in the postures of confidence, you really do feel more confident. The body positions trigger a chemical response in your brain, making your “faking it” closer to reality.

Also, with every successful public interaction, your confidence does in fact build. It layers upon itself like a pearl, accreting until your confidence becomes a real gem instead of costume jewelry.

All of us taking this workshop need confidence. That’s why we are there. But last week, when each of us read an excerpt from our work, I noticed an interesting phenomenon.

Everyone did a great job—which is not surprising, since everyone there had a good story and an obvious passion for their work. What was surprising is that every one of us—who had struggled and sweated over the pitches the week before—had fun with it.

I figured out that the reason I had such fun with my reading: I have full confidence in my work. I enjoy sharing it with people. I have no trouble letting it speak for itself—that’s when I am most comfortable. Speaking for myself, well, that’s another issue. I don’t yet have the same level of confidence in myself as I do in my work.

But then I realized something else: when I am out there as my author public persona, I am not speaking for just myself. I am speaking for my work—the work I am so proud of, the work I have such confidence in. I am a representative for that work, and I need to advocate for it as I would for my baby girl.

I am not afraid to speak up for my daughter. My anxiety falls away and I do what needs to be done because she cannot speak for herself, and no one else cares for her welfare as I do. She needs me.

My work needs me, too. I am its strongest advocate. I must use the confidence I have in my work to represent it with boldness, tenacity, and passion. There is no room for fear.

Fear still comes, of course—a mere four-week workshop can’t rid me of it completely. But I am learning the tools to conquer it. Learning to put things in a new perspective. Learning to turn my show of confidence into true confidence.

I’m fakin’ it, but I know someday I’ll be makin’ it!

What was the best advice you ever got about how to tame your fear and gain confidence?

Epiphany

Okay, so I’m taking this workshop called Act Like A Writer. It’s supposed to help nervous-wreck hermit-type writers like me build their public persona and gain confidence in all sorts of public situations, from pitching agents to meeting fans. 

I was scared down to my socks.

My wonderful musician aunt told me to “breathe to the floor,” but I focused more on not collapsing onto the floor because my legs trembled so badly. Instructors Jonathan Maberry and Keith Strunk threw us to the wolves immediately—into the hot seat to pitch. And just to make our terror complete, they VIDEOTAPED us for critique purposes!

When my turn came, I could barely walk to the hot seat. I sat there on the tipping point of a panic attack. The mess inside my head whirled around like a tornado, and I thought throwing up, passing out, or having my head explode was a real possibility. The oddest phenomenon—that of sitting on my own shoulder listening to my mouth talk—capped the out-of-control sensation.

Then I was done. Until the video got posted online.

Due to technical glitches, I did not get to see my video until the day of the next class. One by one, as others watched their videos, they posted traumatized messages about how hard it was to watch themselves. I agonized as I waited—I’d been such a mess, how could this not be painful to watch?

So I held my breath and pressed “play.” And…elation! Far from being the travesty I’d expected, I looked calm. I sounded coherent. I appeared so…normal. Sure, I had things to work on, but I was overjoyed all the same. If I take away nothing else, I will take away this valuable lesson:

My external presentation does not reveal my internal panic-stricken maelstrom.

Talk about a confidence booster! The way I felt and the way I looked could not have been farther apart. I realize that my fear of the fear’s effect on my performance had been more debilitating than the anxiety itself. It was an epiphany.

Will I still be nervous when I pitch? Absolutely. I will always be nervous. But now I will not be a nervous wreck.

Judging a Book by Its Cover Copy

Cover copy (or jacket blurb) is important to a book, no question. It is one of the main things, if not the main thing that makes a reader buy a book. It is carefully crafted, often refined from the author’s pitch and query letter, and calculated to make the reader want to find out more.

I know that when I browse for books, the title catches me first, then I read the jacket. I don’t much care what the cover art looks like, as far as making a buying decision goes. And I find I rarely glance at the first few pages, although I know many people do. So the jacket blurb is of utmost importance to my buying experience.

I was in the pharmacy earlier this week, and I browsed the paperbacks while waiting. I found a book that I’d heard tons of people talking about – it’s all the rage. Since I really didn’t know what the book was about, I read the jacket. It seemed interesting—until I got to the glaring typo in the very last line. An extra word! That mistake immediately turned me off from the book. I suppose the part of me that is a professional editor wondered about the quality of what I would find inside the book, if they made such a mistake on a small blurb on the back. And while I may still read the book sometime, my strong negative reaction surprised me.

I’ve been thinking that the adage “You can’t judge a book by its cover” can also be applied to the cover copy. There have been times I’ve bought a book with a great jacket blurb, only to find that the story didn’t live up to the promise—sometimes it hardly seemed like the same book! And there are times when the book far exceeds the expectations raised in the blurb.

Authors often protest that it isn’t fair for their entire manuscript to be judged by a single-page query letter. Is it any fairer that your book, once published, is judged by a single blurb on the back? Which is precisely why we authors have to be so good at summing our book up, even though we find it so difficult sometimes!

How important is jacket copy to you when you buy a book? Should there be a better way for readers to be able to judge a book, instead of relying so heavily on cover copy? If so, what?

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