So I went to Marcon this weekend. This con took place in Columbus, Ohio at the convention center. I was asked by the one and only Griffin Barber to attend this con because he told me he would be making an appearance there (along with the magnificent Alistair Kimble) and since it had been several years since I’ve seen these two, and the con is only a short drive, I decided to attend.
I almost didn’t. Unfortunately, this con fell on a busy weekend and I almost blew it off due to other plans. It’s a con that’s somewhere between small and medium and it isn’t really a con that falls into my genre. Also, and this is the most unfortunate reason, because I’ve fallen so far out of the writing world that I didn’t really feel as though I belonged there. I’ve fallen out of touch with my writing and wasn’t really sure I was up for a couple of days surrounded by writers and their questions about how my work is going. Work on The Storm and The Other Sky is just under steady, I’m sad to admit, and talking about it exhausts me. I didn’t want to be the downer of the group.
I’m glad I chose to go. Turns out, it was exactly what I needed. Being surrounded by my people again (writers), hearing about their projects, and hearing a few words of praise from Griffin about a story I wrote really did wonders for how I feel about my writing. The drive home that night after saying goodbye to my friends was the first time in a long time that I started thinking about writing again on a regular basis. After a few years of believing that the bulb had burned out permanently, it turns out all I needed was for someone to flip the switch.
As a writer, you never really know if your work is affecting anyone unless they tell you. It’s a very lonely job. Usually, you only hear the complaints. Your work is too violent, too wordy, too long, too this or too that. You don’t often hear the praise. For some reason, when people love something, they keep it to themselves. But people love to spread around what they hate. So, you’re sitting in your office, slaving over every last word you’ve written, wondering if you are the only one who really gives a crap about any of this.
I’d forgotten how great it feels to chum around with writers and talk about the craft. Now that I’ve been reminded, I won’t forget that again.
Thanks Griffin and Alistair, for throwing me the life jacket.