Today is Tuesday—Two Days Left
In over 300 blog posts, the closest I’ve come to a day-by-day style like this one is The Chicken Gazzette, but that was me remaining stationary while being bested by a moody brood. Thought I’d give this style a try… a process-as-you-go kind of thing.
I don’t normally start writing the blog on a Tuesday, but I’m leaving in two days for a road trip to New Jersey for a Writer’s Digest Conference.
And even typing the previous sentence made my nervous system lean a little to the left. Like I’m dodging something.
I don’t feel ready for this conference.
I wasn’t ready for this conference a couple of years ago when it was held in Cincinnati.
Life has exploded more times in the last five years than my Couch Lady can keep up with. And I meet with her nearly weekly.
On Tuesdays.
But not this Tuesday, because she needs a break from my chaos lest she be unable to keep my leftward-leaning nervous system fully encased in my body, so I bugged off to a pizza/bookstore/bridge adventure with a buddy and still leaned left, but I could laugh about it.
Anyway, the derailment has created some serious writer’s block. Thus my “not ready-ness.”
I’m working on it, but I feel… Sideways? Lopsided.
Goofy.
That’s it. I feel goofy.
But with the way things are shaking out in the day-to-day chaos, I must learn to do things in this state.
So, I suppose I’ll go to the conference… goofy.
Today is Wednesday—One Day Left
Catch-up breakfast with a friend. We stop in an antique mall and spot a glass juicer. Which I buy because I’ve ended up with an entire bag of subpar grapefruit and must make juice or waste the fruit.
I’ve also ended up with plantar fasciitis from an unfortunate decision I made the last time I left the cornfield. I’m about to sit in a car for several hours, so chiropractor is a must. My Back Guy of ten years passed away, so I’m with a Back Gal now, and the relationship is… still in the “getting to know you” phase.
She snap-crackle-popped me back into alignment, albeit not quite like Back Guy, which makes me… a little goofy.
In the evening, I work on conference prep in the office. Hubs groans loudly from the next room.
“What happened?” I don’t get up from the desk… plantar fasciitis, you see.
“I was tryin’ to pick up a pill I dropped on the floor.”
A pause. More grunting.
“It’s under the fridge now,” I hear from the kitchen.
Another pause. More grunting.
“It’s fiber.”
Fabulous.
Today is Thursday—D-Day!
I pick up Writer Buddy at seven in the morning. We stop over the Pennsylvania border for a nice picnic lunch, then we stop for gas. I pump while she goes inside the station. She comes out and says, “Don’t be afraid of the bathroom. It’s perfectly fine.”
Which is an odd thing to say… unless something’s not perfectly fine with the bathroom.
I go into the station and spot the restroom door, which is halfway behind the counter next to the tall, grinning cashier man.
I open the door while he grins and… I’m in a broom closet.
For a split second I’m tempted to turn tail and run up the road to the WaWa, but Writer Buddy wouldn’t have let me go in if it was a bad deal, so I open a second door inside the broom closet labeled ‘bathroom’ and enter a tropical paradise potty with flamingo and octopus décor.
I wish there were a third door for the exit so I didn’t have to go back through the broom closet and past the grinning man, but we do what we must and backtrack to the road.
Siri has a flip-out hairy fit (which will be material for a different blog) and ends up sending us toward Ohio, forcing us to make a U-turn before heading to New Jersey.
We arrive safely at the conference hotel.
I am not sure about Writer Buddy, but I certainly arrive goofy.
Today is Friday—Conference Day 1
Full disclosure: I am on the willpower struggle bus. Problems focusing. Problems thinking. Problems articulating. Social awkwardness. Imposter syndrome. Crowds and noise and classes where I have to sit still.
Why am I even here?
Sessions today cover social media strategies, TikTok how-tos, media packages, and endurance. I struggle to find a nugget or two to implement. Perhaps my notes will be of use when I’m not so leftward-leaning.
But there was a dragon, so there's that...
We connect with an interesting writer and head to a Japanese place which has a robot cat server.
Robot. Cat.
Her name is Bella.
I think of my Stella Marie, who is not a robot cat, but an organic one, and I miss home a little bit.
I look at my notes back in the room. This gem was offered by someone who’s suffered the writing yips: To get back to writing, begin writing.
So simple it stings.
I wonder if that’s the nugget.
I wonder if it matters that I’m goofy.
Today is Saturday—Conference Day 2
We’re forty miles from NYC. And it’s famous for bagels? I suppose because I don’t get out much and because I don’t care for bagels, I didn’t know bagels are a “thing” here.
Writer Buddy, who gets out a lot and likes bagels, says it’s a thing. She confirms the bagels from this corner shop are quite good.
I still don’t like bagels.
Sessions today covered memoir, children’s books, and freelancing.
During a session on balancing tragedy and comedy (pause here while regular readers of the blog nod their heads slowly), I feel my shoulders drop for the first time since we arrived.
Laughter happens, too.
Thank you, Katie Love, for offering this class.
I have a handful of nuggets to process, and my brain hurts. I ditch the last session and step outside into a gospel music festival to buy a pina colada from a vendor who swears to me there’s no alcohol in it.
I’m goofy enough.
Today is Sunday—Rentry Day
Morning departure. 7:33 a.m. to 8:03 p.m. drop-off for Writer Buddy.
Uneventful drive filled with deconstructing the conference and workshopping short story ideas. We also had several failed attempts at solving the world’s problems between the Pennsylvania Turnpike and the exit to find ice cream for supper.
Finally home, I’m wiped out physically, and my mind spins on all the must-dos of the upcoming week and the want-to-dos from the conference.
To get back to writing…
…begin writing.
I suppose I must do it goofy.
