RT Houston: Late night

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I fully intended to go to tonight’s party/dinner/dance. Sponsored by Heather Graham, it looked to be a lot of fun. But about halfway through the editor panel this afternoon, one of them made a comment that sent my mind spiralling out the door, down the hall, and into another world. The longer I sat, the more it boiled and toiled in my head, so I left at the break, grabbed a sandwich from the shop downstairs, and I’ve been writing every since.

I now have a three-page synopsis, an elevator pitch, and the first few pages of a book, and I’ve already sent off two queries with three more planned. I don’t think a book has ever come to me so suddenly, so completely, in such a short period of time.

Yet it’s not the first time words at a conference have sent me fleeing back to my room to write. It’s one reason I love them…the presence of other writers, the encouragement of readers and editors. As one of the panelists pointed out yesterday, our competitors are NOT our fellow writers. There’s always room for new voices as well as old. Our competitors are television, movies, and the internet…anything the sucks dry reading time. Anything that steals leisure moments from books.

No…our colleagues are not our competitors; they should be our encouragers. And a conference like this always strikes so many new ideas, I become torn between writing and going to events. I made myself go to sessions today, but the party just couldn’t break through the lure of the story.

Now, if only Rachel’s nurse hadn’t called with word that she’s ill. REALLY ill. Phyllis has already called for antibiotics and started the back-up treatments for Rachel’s lungs. This is TWICE I’ve been to RT and TWICE Rachel has gotten ill in the middle of it. Phyllis tries to assuage my guilt, telling me it’s just the time of year; Rach usually gets ill in April, and she can give Rach better medical care than I can…

It’s not working. I still feel like a selfish heel. I’ll get over it…as soon as I get home. In the meantime, work will help.

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