Conferences

Fiorella learned four very important things at her first national RWA conference in 2008. First, she learned that she could navigate all by her lonesome within the conference, in a large hotel, and on the mean streets of San Francisco.  Second, she learned that there is no stereotypical romance writer--they come in all sizes, shapes, ages, colors--and sexes. Third, she learned that established writers (read Colleen Thompson and Terry McLaughlin) can be very kind to a newbie.  Fourth, as she learned, from the agent who stood in front of her in a Starbuck's line, a pattern of dieting for three days, then eating whatever one desires on the fourth, is an effective method of trimming down.

At the Orlando conference, she had a blinding Paul-on-the-way-to-Damascus revelation that, in order to get her work into print, she'd have to write not just as well as established authors, but strive for better.  She also learned to ignore other people's negativity.

At the New York conference, she realized that her overriding goal for the next year should be to GET AN AGENT.

At the Atlanta conference, she met face-to-face with said agent, the divine Liza, and also learned who were her true friends (read Colleen Thompson and April Sartor).

Next summer is the San Antonio conference.  More adventures to come.

Dreamland

What if, when Fiorella tripped over that sneaky hotel step in Atlanta and hit her head on the concrete curb, she went into a coma and is even now in a hospital being kept alive by tubes and tender care?  It would mean that everything that's happened to her since the national RWA conference is a morphine dream,  that she didn't really meet and connect with her agent in person, that she didn't really have editors from three big publishing houses want Kinkaid House, that she didn't really receive an offer from Grand Central, that Michele Biedelspach won't be her editor.  It would mean that Husband didn't surprise her with a Dove bar after she'd had a hard time working out the rehearsal dinner for Son's wedding, that her hair doesn't look extra good right now, that an old friend hasn't contacted her on Facebook.

What the heck--if Fio is floating off in a fantasy somewhere, reality can go fly a kite.

Down-hearted

Remember that Fiorella bunged up a leg and her head in Atlanta?  Well, it's not over yet.  A couple of days ago her ankle developed purple splotches halfway up to her knee and, although the yellow on her forehead is fading, she now has a port-wine stain between her left eye and her nose down onto her cheek.  The doctor said the stain will dissipate eventually, but Fio is terribly self-conscious about it. 

Fiorella's also downhearted about the business situation she handles for the family.  Everything looked so promising last month, but now it's all gone down the drain. And she's depressed about her  physical infirmities--vocal tremor, poor balance, bad eyesight, kyphosis.  And she mourns a friendship that died in Atlanta.  And, for all her brave words, she's discouraged about Kinkaid House's chances of ever seeing the publishing light of day.

Fiorella, who is very weak, prays for strength because the only way she can go is forward. 

National Conference Report

Fiorella lost her sunglasses the first day.  The second day, she slashed her leg trying to get into a taxi-cab van built like the Great Wall of China.  The third day, she tripped and fell on a treacherous front step while departing the hotel, leaving her with a big goose egg on her forehead. The fourth day,  she realized her book stood all, all alone, that everything else on the market was light and fluffy while hers was dark, deep, and emotional.  The fifth day, coming home, she lost her regular glasses. For her, the romance writers' conference was a total bust.

Or was it?  Sure, she woke up yesterday morning and lay there working out the words to "My Country 'Tis of Thee ,"  "America," and the national anthem (which she could only get halfway through) to be sure that conk on the head hadn't obliterated quite all of her memory.  Sure, she'll have to wear the ugly purple cat eyes until she can get to the optometrist for a classier-looking pair.  Sure, she'll have to make a trip to Walgreen's to pick up a new pair of sunglasses, and she'll have to keep a close eye on that leg wound because she hadn't packed Neosporin in her carry-on.    

But Fiorella survived and is stronger for the experience.  She met with her agent, Liza Dawson, for the first time in person, and the divine one is as positive and supportive in person as she has been over the phone.  And Fio reconnected with two old friends, who supported Fio when she experienced a real-life black moment of her own.  And she talked to Laurie Kellogg, disdained by publishers despite her many contest wins, who finally took matters into her own hands, self-published, and is now pulling in $5000 a month.

But the real kicker is that Fiorella realized how strong her book is, that it reaches to the depths of despair to the zenith of joy.  That it is dramatic (thank you, Baylor Children's Theater), an emotional roller coaster, Gone  with the Wind with a happy ending.  Sure, it's not what's on the market right now, but Fiorella thinks it will sell like the proverbial hotcakes once the word gets out.  This book is emotionally satisfying, a keeper, one you can't put down.  To amend Scarlett, AS GOD IS MY WITNESS, THIS BOOK WILL FLY!  




 

Husband Speaks

Fiorella is out of town, at a writers' conference in Atlanta.  ATLANTA?  Hey, give me San Francisco or Las Vegas or Colorado Springs, or even Philadelphia.  I would even find more to do--and a lot better food--in Fort Worth, right up I-35.

Of course, everything is right up I-35, or over on !-35W.  Elder son and his wonderful wife live right up the highway 1500 miles north, in Minnesota.  Yes, Texas is the center of the world.  From here, you can go anywhere.

Journey

Fiorella joined Romance Writers of America in January 2008, and that summer, she flew to San Francisco to attend her first national RWA conference.  What she learned there was that successful romances writers come in all sizes, shapes, and ages, which meant  she too could aspire.  In  2010, with several contest firsts under her belt, Fio attended her second national conference, in Orlando, and came away with the realization that she not only had to be as good as other romance writers, but better, in order to get published.  In 2011, she came away from the New York conference determined to get a good agent.  Now, in 2013, she will attend the Atlanta conference, meet with her agent, the divine Liza, and discuss her career.

Before Fiorella joined RWA, she had been writing romances for twenty-five years and even aroused some editorial interest, but she didn't know how to follow up or respond appropriately.  Now, in just five years, she's on the brink.

Wish her a good journey.

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Midst the Madding Crowd!

Fio's world is full to the brim right now.  (1) Kensington turned down Kinkaid House because the story is too gritty for them, but the editor liked Fio's voice and wants to see more of what she's written.  (Sorry, guy, Fio writes gritty.)  (2) Fiorella's critique partner called and invited Fio to join her in Atlanta at the national RWA conference in July, and Fio said yes.  (3) The business deal seems to be coming to a head--again--and there's a concomitant lawsuit which Fio, Husband, and Nephew are filing. (4) Fiorella is almost nine chapters into the next book of her linked trilogy that starts with Kinkaid House.  And she's making notes for the third one.

Ain't it grand!!! Fio feels so alive!!!