The Writing life: I'm back from the WD Writer's Conference!

     I’m home again, after spending a weekend in crazy wonderful New York City. Damn it was cold! But my Old Navy Pea coat kept me warm and cozy.

     We ate Peeking Duck in China town, Chicken fried steak at Virgil’s in Times Square, and my favorite sandwich in the world The Woody Allen, at the Carnegie Deli. NYC is still the greatest city in the world to me, but the minute I saw those beautiful palm trees at Palm Beach Int’l Airport I knew I was back in my tropical paradise and far away from the slush and bitterly cold wind.

     We stayed as the Hilton on 54^th street and 6^th Avenue, very nice! I recommend it to everyone traveling to New York. I hope I can stay there again, soon. It had two bars, one with hot and cold running football playoff games, and a super friendly staff. We also saw Yankee legend Joe Torre, he was there for a sport writers dinner.

     We looked up the best gyros in the city and discovered, that the second best, were sold from a street cart right across the street. They were so delicious we got three!

     My wife and I sent Friday night with friends (yes, one was Elayne) listening to my pitch and drilling me with possible questions. I then arrived at the conference prepared, and a very nice woman made me realize I had left out the three most important parts of my pitch:  my name, the book’s title and the word count.

     The WD writer’s conference was awesome. I learned a lot about the publishing industry and self-publishing, and I realized how important good books are to agents and publishers. They need us.

     All of the agents were friendly and approachable and willing to answer questions. The atmosphere was upbeat, optimistic and supportive. What I loved most about the conference was being in a room with 500 writers. A first for me. We may not have all been published authors, but we are all writers.

     It was wonderful to have someone turn to me and say, “I’m YA, what are you?”

     “I’m fiction,” I’d answer with a smile.

     “I’m romance,” someone else would interrupt.

     It was unreal. Everyone was friendly, enthusiastic, and nervous as hell. I heard from some of the others that some writer’s conferences can be very competitive. The pitch slam was wonderfully insane, and I am so glad I attended. It was worth every dime we spent to get there.

     I tried to pay attention to all of the great speakers but I could not help but constantly practice my pitch silently in my head. At one point, an hour before the slam, I looked around and EVERYONE was either reading their notes, re-writing, or mouthing their pitch silently to themselves.     

     The agents all listened intensely and most of them were very friendly. Mr. Jim McCarthy even stood up to greet every nervous writer who walked up to his table. It was held in one large room, with little tables against the wall where the agents sat patiently waiting.

     The agents whom I spoke to loved the concept of Confessions of an Internet Pornographer, wish me luck.

     I am recommending that ANY writers with a finished book attend next year’s conference. Don't be discouraged that you missed this year's conference, use the next year to edit your novel and start working on a pitch.

     Being able to speak directly to literary agents was a God-send. I was able to look into their eyes and see their enthusiasm, or disinterest, and bypass the slush pile, a priceless opportunity. It was a much better experience than receiving a rejection letter in the mail, at least when I head “not interested” I got it directly from the horse’s mouth.

     Now comes Phase II, waiting for them to read my sample chapters and hoping someone will want to represent me. In the meantime, it’s time to post another short story on Zoetrope, have you guys joined it yet and started work shopping your stories? You should.

     I am using the next few months to enter the Glimmer Train stories January and February fiction contests, and I’m about to start working on a new short story. I will also continue writing into the wind and wishing for the best.

Love,

Lucho

  P.S.

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