This blog post was a long time coming. Procrastination, anyone?
I could write my way through all of the fantastic workshops I attended, from the dissection of story structure that strokes my geek side, to hilarious author chats about good and bad sex scenes. Or the session that went into great, great, great detail about what happens at a romance cover photo shoot, starring a live—shirtless—male model, that was definitely not recorded (but burned into the minds of every female, and rare male, in attendance).
I could write about every fantastic person I met, from gals I saw for a hot second to new friends I connected with throughout the week.
I could write about all of the kindness and inclusion and knowing hellos from people who remember what it was like to be a First-Timer. Including my AMAZING room mate who was a compass to my lost times, a light in the mist, a Bud margarita to my red wine.
I could write about that awkward moment in the elevator when a hotel guest (dude alert!) asked about the writing conference and dumbly came to the conclusion: “so, it’s pretty much like Fifty Shades of Grey?"
I could go into exasperating detail about all of the splendor, glitz, and tearful speeches of the RITA and Golden Heart awards ceremony. (It felt like the Oscars.) Or the inspiring, heartache-y keynote speech by Beverly Jenkins. OR the lifetime achievement speech by Robyn Carr.
I could write about the fantastically, life-affirming, validating experience it was to be surrounded by thousands of romance authors for an entire week, stepping to the beat of “What you do is important.” and “You better take yourself seriously, because nobody else will.” Also “Have fun."
I could even recommend that you watch this documentary about the whole business.
Instead of writing about any of that, I’m just going to leave this here: