A few months ago, I was convincing my husband to take me to Lollapalooza for our anniversary. He swears I've permanently damaged his hearing dragging him to concerts, but he usually indulges me anyway. While searching for flights and hotels, somehow I stumbled upon a writing conference taking place the same weekend, in Jacksonville.
This wasn't just any writing conference, but one with a primary focus on critique groups. And the cost was equivalent to one ticket to the music festival I've dreamed of attending since I was a teenager.
Somehow life just slaps you in the face, at just the right time. What was my priority? Would I chase after my beloved Muse, and many other awesome bands, or would I focus on improving my writing?
I chose the conference. And, wow, did I make the right decision. This weekend I walked into a room full of strangers. I walked out enriched by the experiences and talent of ten unique, funny, brilliant writers. I hope to call them friends for years to come.
Writing is a solitary process. I feel so blessed to have joined a community of people who know what that solitude feels like. They have all stared at a blank screen. They've struggled for hours to find the right words. They know their characters better than they know their best friends. They all know the madness I've chosen to indulge, and they keep choosing it, too.
In honor of what I'm sure was a jaw-dropping performance by Matt and the gang this weekend, I'm listening to a Genius mix based on Muse's cover of Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want. While I do what I love. Write.
Until next time...
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