Anyway, this past weekend as the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers conference. As always, I had a wonderful time: seeing friends and fellow writers from previous years, learning, attempting to figure out how the hell this writing and getting published thing actually works.
The conference (I can only afford to go to one every year because I'm the epitome of the broke artist) always leaves me feeling both exhausted and exhilarated.
Exhausted because I'm an introvert and I make a point to spend all weekend socializing as much as I can (and, you know, that whole not sleeping thing doesn't help, either.)
Exhilarated because I feel like I've uncovered another facet of my craft, another piece I can utilize in my work, or another technique I can explore to help me better my storytelling.
And, normally, a surprising burst of energy to re-start blogging and social media-ing to try and build a pretty little platform and sucker--I mean, invite--all (two of) you readers into sticking around and being my audience.
My plan is to get better about this blogging thing, even if I'm just rambling about my own process, or the research I'm doing, or the problems I'm coming up against in my writing. Like not really having any idea of what my latest project wants for a plot.
Yep. That's the plan. Tada. The end. Whoopie.
(No, I promise I don't write my fiction this way; I shouldn't be writing a blog post on a weekend of little sleep and conference high, either. My bad.)