It will take my aging brain several days — possibly weeks — to process all the information I gleaned from the 2009 SCBWI-Midsouth Conference. We were blessed to have the warmest, friendliest, and most inspirational faculty I’ve ever seen assembled in one place at one time.

Several upcoming posts will be devoted to sharing what I learned during the weekend. I’ve decided to start with the one “goosebumps” moment I experienced.

If you ever have the opportunity to hear Cheryl Klein teach “Principles of Plot,” go. Don’t miss it. Don’t make excuses. Just go.

Over the years, I’ve spent tons of money on books that I hoped would give me a better understanding of how to plot a story.

There are rare times when we have a thought or impression that is so powerful that it affects us physically. We get goosebumps. We shiver. We gasp, awed by that “lightbulb” moment.

Halfway through Klein’s workshop, a switch flipped in my brain and the light came on. It was as if a thousand puzzle pieces suddenly clicked together, creating a recognizable image. (Looking back on it, I hope I didn’t gasp out loud!)

At last, the principles of plot were no longer mysterious and unobtainable.

My thoughts raced. I flipped a page in my notebook and started writing. My hands trembled. I couldn’t form the words on paper fast enough.

It was such a relief, at last, to understand — to know.

At the end of the presentation, I tried to thank her, but I was so full of nervous excitement that I know I did a poor job of expressing my gratitude.

Hopefully I can make up for that with this post.

Cheryl Klein, if you read this someday — thank you. Thank you for coming to our conference and teaching the principles of plot in a way that I could understand. Thank you for your workshop. I came away inspired to work harder, to keep writing, and to put the knowledge you shared with us to good use.

Time to interrupt the conference tips series with a disclaimer.

Lest I sound all high ‘n mighty, I must confess that I am guilty of some of the aforementioned heinous conference behaviors.

Ugh.

Anyhoo, I’m going to share a few of my past oopsies with you, along with this bit of wisdom: Learn from your mistakes. That’s what I’ve done. I’ve goofed up critiques or conversations because I didn’t know what was against protocol — hence the reason I am posting conference tips, dear reader. Now that I have a few more writing years under my belt, I’ve arrived at the place where I understand that each conference, each critique, each chat teaches me something. When I act in an unprofessional manner, I lose that learning experience. Conferences and retreats are expensive and don’t occur every day. I can’t afford to lose any opportunities.

I am happy to say that I’ve never cornered an agent or editor in a bathroom, janitorial closet, elevator, restaurant, hallway, or gift shop. I am also proud that I’ve never monopolized a conversation or used a cell phone during a workshop.

I have, however, been guilty of:

• Crying during a critique. I know the critiquer didn’t mind — she hugged me at the end! She’s probably the warmest, fuzziest person you’ll ever meet in the business. By the time she was finished with me, she had me convinced I could fly. However, there are lots of agents and editors who are immediately turned off when the waterworks turn on. They say it’s a business and we should behave that way. They are correct.
• Contacting the agent assigned to critique my work prior to the conference. Ack. Looking back on it now, it was SUCH a stupid thing to do! I will never, ever do that again.
• Not listening during a critique, because my mind was racing! I was thinking about what I should say next, how I should respond, rather than soaking up the advice. Dumb, dumb, dumb! D’oh!

So just remember, as you read my final pre-conference thoughts this week, that I have been there and done that.

Now I know better, and so do you.  

“When you write, you light a bonfire in the spirit world. It is dark there. Lost souls wander alone. Your inner flame flares up. And the lost souls gather near your light and heat. And they see the next artist at work and go there. And they follow the fires until they find their ways home.”
 
Said by a Mexican healer woman, quoted in “Life Is An Act Of Literary Creation,” by Luis Alberto Urrea (from NPR’s This I Believe.)

This past week, negative Agentfail comments, many posted anonymously by angry writers, have hovered like storm clouds over the blogosphere. The posts were in reponse to Queryfail, a day when agents shared via Twitter portions of queries from writers (no names mentioned) that prompted immediate rejection.

The agents had good intentions, for the most part. Queryfail was intended to help writers increase their chances of getting a partial or full request from an agent. Some Agentfail posts offered constructive criticism. Others were just downright bitter.

Fortunately, folks were posting positive agent comments today.

Here’s my two cents on this:

1. Angry outbursts don’t improve anyone’s situation. (I know, because every time I have my own angry outburst, I end up embarrassed afterwards, wishing I’d controlled my temper.) If you can’t find an agent for that manuscript you’re shopping around, work at improving your manuscript rather than blaming agents for your inability to get published. Get past the “it’s them” syndrome and consider reasons why you might be the problem.

2. This is a business, people. It’s not American Idol, the Publishers Clearinghouse Sweepstakes or one of those fast-food restaurant promotions where “everyone’s a winner.” Completing a manuscript doesn’t mean you’re entitled to a contract or even a request for a partial read by an agent.

As the recession continues, more people will try their hand at writing children’s picture books and novels, believing it’s a quick way to make money.

Read my lips: It’s not.

The path to publication is long and arduous. It takes months, sometimes years, to write a novel. It takes months, sometimes years, to get a novel accepted for publication. It takes months, sometimes years, for a book to go from contract to the bookshelf at Barnes and Noble. Same for picture books. Just because they’re 700-800 words doesn’t mean you can flip ‘em quicker than a griddle cook at Waffle House.

In other words, if you had a complete manuscript for a novel and it got accepted today, by the time it hits the shelves, the recession may be over.

As for the making money part — I’d write more, but right now I’m laughing so hard the tears are shorting out my keyboard.

It seems that we live in an age of anger, and sometimes it’s so contagious that we catch it and spread it without even realizing the effect it’s having on us or our surroundings.

The negative energy emanating from the whole Queryfail/Agentfail debacle has, at least for me, done nothing to improve my understanding of the business.

The only thing I learned is that there are a lot of bitter writers out there.

Bitter is not what I want to be, not about my writing, nor about agents or editors.

The day that I am overcome with bitterness will be the day that I fail as a writer. And if I fail, I won’t have anyone to blame but myself.

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by frost.

– J.R.R. Tolkien

A new blog format, in honor of St. Patrick’s Day.

No pot of gold yet, but the rainbow is gorgeous.

Everyone’s short of money these days (unless you’re the government, in which case you just print an extra trillion or two). Like the rest of you book lovers out there, I want to keep adding to my shelves. I want to purchase the latest releases by my author and illustrator friends as well as other writers whose works I enjoy. Hence the first of many tips to help you feed your book habit when money’s tight.

If you’re looking for a way to support the publishing industry during these difficult economic times, might I suggest making your own laundry detergent?

Yes, it’s true — the woman who is addicted to all things convenience — convenience stores, convenience foods, etc. — makes her own laundry detergent.

I stopped buying the manufactured stuff months ago, thanks to my daughter, who talked me into trying this recipe from The Family Homestead.

Today I made a double batch, and it took maybe a half an hour. When I’m done, I look at all that detergent and feel so, um, self-sufficient! I use the Fels-Naptha soap, which has a nice fresh smell. I keep the detergent in a five-gallon plastic bucket. Since I made a double batch, the bucket is nearly full. That’s enough detergent to last months, since you only use 1/2 cup per large load.  There are no more big plastic detergent jugs to recycle! And I can use my extra money to buy the latest by Neil Gaiman, rather than a gallon of Gain.