Conferences

There is a writing conference on Sanibel Island that I would like to attend in November. The link is here :

Sanibel Island Writing Conference

I'd like to meet Susan Orlean. I'd like to talk to Steve Almond about a problem with a character. I would really like to buy Andre Dubus a drink for the wonderful _House of Sand and Fog_. I'm afraid I'd want to hug Camille Dungy [ yes - I read a lot of poetry. You'd be surprised how many guys with bullets on their desk read poetry. I also come from the land of Langston Hughes whom I first read in what would have been third grade in South Carolina].

I'm not going. I'm not ready.

How do I know  (you might ask ) ?

I am not being paid to attend.

I don't want the networking and the reunion business of  "and you are...? and you've done ? "

I haven't done what matters. I've not put my soul on paper in danger and risk for everyone to see. Until I do that, the rest is wanking.

I am writing for symbolic fish. I've seen one. I have one swimming in me. I need to get it on the page. It takes  little effort to learn how.

 I've everything it takes to hang one on the wall but the accomplishment of doing it.

There is doing a thing and there is to die trying.