NaNoWriMo and #WDC17: The Introverted Attendee

This past weekend, NaNoWriMo sent last year’s Donation Day Grand Prize winner Melissa Plantz to the 2017 Writer’s Digest Conference in New York City. After a packed schedule full of workshops and events, Melissa reflects on the courage it took to make the trip and the things she learned along the way:

When Grant Faulkner, the Executive Director for NaNoWriMo, emailed to inform me I’d won the Grand Prize for Double Up Donation Day in November of last year, I was elated.

And terrified.

I’m a writer, and just like many other writers around the world, I am an introvert. As in this gal doesn’t go to Walmart because of the crowds. New York City? Oh, my.

I was also pregnant at the time, which meant come August I would leave my five-month-old baby to attend the Writer’s Digest Conference. Could I leave her for three days?

I took a deep breath and with trembling hands, I emailed Grant. Yes, I would go. My internal critic screamed worries and fears for the next eight months. But, I did it anyway.

It was a weekend of Firsts: The first time flying in an airplane, the first time in NYC, the first time attending a writer’s conference, the first time pitching my dark YA paranormal to agents and editors, and the first time leaving my precious baby girl with her grandmother and older sister.

I attended sessions to strengthen my craft and learned from such masters as Hank Phillippi Ryan, Paula Munier, Jane K. Cleland, and Jennifer De Chiara. I made some friends.

And I didn’t die.

My characters needed me to take the necessary baby steps out of my comfort zone to properly tell their story and ask for feedback from the experts in YA. My inner critic battled with my characters all weekend, vying for attention.

One of the sessions I attended on Saturday was led by Danny Gregory, author of Shut Your Monkey. It was the perfect class before my Pitch Slam. Familiar to many fellow NaNoWriMo’ers is the incessant voice that whispers in our heads, warning us of danger and filling us with doubt and worry.

Mr. Gregory refers to his inner critic as a monkey. Yours could be a different creature, but it helped me to view that imaginary voice as a separate entity, especially before pitching my book.

The keynote speakers and the presenters were amazing. Lisa Scottoline’s opening talk struck a chord with me as she spoke about how she came to the business of writing books so she could stay home with her baby girl. She talked about how the struggle was worth it and how we must persevere.

Ms. Scottoline used the analogy of a lit candle. The flame––the light––represents our writing, our creativity, our work. You have to protect your candle from the negativity and the priorities of others that threaten to extinguish your flame.

During her talk, I realized I have to protect my candle from not only others, but defend it from self-sabotage.

Every evening during the conference, and the next few days after the event, I spent time decompressing. As an introvert, the nervous energy from Pitch Slam alone drained me for hours.

But, I’d do it again.

I plan to attend next year. I missed one session led by Gabriela Pereira titled, “Rock Your Revisions” that I had looked forward to the entire weekend and I am still disappointed. Hopefully, she will attend next year.

I left the conference feeling on top of the world.

And kicked my monkey to the curb.

image

Melissa Plantz chose to stay home full time with her nine-year-old son Draven and baby girl Arwynn after working as a pharmacy technician for almost two decades. She lives in Charleston, WV, with her husband and two youngest children, and is also the mother to three grown book lovers. She writes YA Paranormal and Horror. Connect with her on Twitter @TheWritePlantz.

 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on August 25, 2017 10:55
No comments have been added yet.


Chris Baty's Blog

Chris Baty
Chris Baty isn't a Goodreads Author (yet), but they do have a blog, so here are some recent posts imported from their feed.
Follow Chris Baty's blog with rss.