A Writer’s-Conference Experience from a Presenter’s POV

This week brought a happy day when I received the ratings and comments from writers who were in my Crafting a Killer First Page workshop at the 2011 Write on the Sound Writer’s Conference in Edmonds, WA. This is my third time doing the workshop at WOTS, and the ratings are key to being invited back.

I should state up front that I think Write on the Sound is a superb conference, and I can say that because of my experience on both sides of the lectern.

Even though the scores and ratings are about me, they are even more about the 52 writers who attended and whether or not what I did served them well—and these are VERY objective and smart people. As I said, it was a happy day—37 writers turned in ratings and comments. The scale is 5 = excellent, 1 = poor. 21 remarkably astute writers gave me a 5, the rest gave a 4. My favorite comment was this:

“In my 3 years of attending WOTS, this is the best, most helpful workshop I’ve attended.”

That response, and many that were very similar, got me to thinking about the conference experience that a presenter has as opposed to a paying customer. As a presenter, I was able to experience being on the receiving end of the intensity and intelligence of scores of inquiring minds, and to share the experience of working on improving writing. It’s a bond, a flow of energy, like no other, and it’s the real payout for me.

It’s giving and receiving

As a presenter, I’m supposed to give something to those paying customers, some kind of insight into the craft or business of writing. My workshop is an “immersion” in a rapid-fire stream of first pages from manuscripts submitted by writers in the workshop ahead of time. The class gets a packet of first pages (16-17 lines of narrative). We read one, and then vote on whether or not we would be compelled to turn the page. The vote is perhaps the most telling part of each critique.

I ask a few of the yes and no voters why they did or didn’t turn the page, and then give my own notes on the submission. Then we go on to the next one. I should add that the set-up includes urging workshoppers to read the pages as if they were an agent who is looking at the 100th submission of the week and has a terrible headache. In other words, the hurdle is high. The writing has to compel!

I’ll get off this in a moment, but it’s interesting to see how this technique works. About halfway through the session, the writers start evaluating and analyzing submissions in a different way. They start looking for tension, and for story questions—and that teaches them to look for the same things in their own work. So, in that way, I do give.

What I receive

Invariably, I learn something in my workshops; frequently a sharp eye spots a flaw that I missed completely. And I get happy writers coming up after the session who are pleased with what they’ve just learned to do—“I just figured out how to fix my opening” is a common statement. That’s a lot of reward, I can tell you.

Then I become one of them and attend other workshops and sessions at the conference. For free—it’s a great deal.

In those classes, I see presenters much like me who are sharing insights gained from their experience, ordinary people who have worked hard to be successful in publishing—hard work that is the common trait in all the workshopper attendees as well. In my class and in the others, comments and questions are sharp and focused. There’s nothing more fun than talking with other writers about writing. At a conference, everyone, including the presenters, are seekers devoting their intelligence and talent to a common pursuit.

For example, from a writer who has been-there, done-that, I learned about how to use Twitter to advance the marketing of my books, something I’ve been reluctant to try because I didn’t really get how to do it or what to do. I can’t wait to put what I learned into practice. In another class I gained insights into children’s books that have encouraged me to dig out an old manuscript and see if I can market it. All I have to do is find that box . . .

Another gift a presenter receives is that suddenly there are 50 or so people who know who you are and, if your workshop went well, are happy to see you as they pass in the halls on the way to a class, or sit next to you at lunch. This is the real reward for me, chances to visit with fellow writers and talk about the craft.

So, while I’m there for the presenter perks—the free lunch, the book-selling and signing, the honorarium, the high of having given a good performance—the top reward for presenters like me is the chance to connect with lots of fellow writers.

Say hey at the upcoming South Coast Writer’s Conference

I almost forgot to mention that I’m doing two workshops on February 18 and maybe more at the South Coast Writers Conference in Gold Beach, Oregon. Hope to see you there.

For what it’s worth.