This was my second year attending and paneling at the Creative Ink Festival (#CIFest18). This year my time was a limited and I only talked one panel, but I also did a bit of volunteering. Both are a really great way to get your face in front of people and meet fellow authors. I love how low key and friendly everyone is at this event, and if you live within driving range of Vancouver, I recommend checking it out in 2019.
And you, yes you, writers with even just one short story sale, or self-publisher of books, can get on a panel. You want to propose a panel topic? They’re all for it. You want to try moderating? You’ll probably get your chance. You want to try pitching your novel, or having some writing critiqued? There are opportunities for you. It’s a festival where we’re all peers, so it’s a lot more comfortable than some of the other writing conventions that I’ve been too.
The honest truth? Speaking in front of a crowd terrifies me every time, and that’s why I keep doing it. Maybe one day I’ll actually feel as relaxed as I pretend to be.
Well that was another trip to revision land! The landscape is more familiar now, but it’s still unsteady ground. While I’ve written a number of first novel drafts, I haven’t ever taken any one of them this far through revisions. Every draft is a learning experience, and I’m working on a better editing methodology as I go. The only way to get better at the process is to go through it from start to finish.
So I turned it in to my agent and after a short break, hmm… I guess its time to dive into revisions on the Beasty novel. So its more revision practice for me. Just what I wanted, right?
P.S. There’s now a link to my Pinterest page in the sidebar if you’re interested in novel aesthetics, research links, or you just want a taste of what I’m currently working on.
Before having a child, I had no idea how much we inherit from our ancestors. I expected the physical things: my nose, his eyelashes, but I didn’t expect the behaviors. The kiddo likes to rub her feet in circles to sooth herself, which my dad always teased me about when I was a kid. She likes to rub her lips against certain textures, which I used to do with my childhood blanket. She also takes great satisfaction in cutting papers and playdough into small pieces instead of building things, and this is 100% her dad.
How many traumas and traits get passed down over the generations? For better or worse our ancestors live on in us, yet the end result is a completely unique person. We all contain multitudes, and the sum of our parts is something unknowable.