Yesterday afternoon, just as I had gotten home from my shift at the Co-op, Chris calls me to tell me about the Permian Basin Writers’ Workshop that’s going on today. The event started with a catered dinner, at the local library where he had just performed with his quintet, and dinner started in an hour! No time to change–no time to get ready. Get back in the car, and get out to the library now!
Now, I am a faithful person, but I don’t usually believe in “God made it happen.” I believe the world works the way it works, and we were put here to enjoy, protect, learn from, and improve the world. I do not necessarily believe that God, or angels, or saints drop things in our laps, just because we pray occasionally.
I mean, seriously, how can anyone believe that when there’s still so much starvation, disease, and violence in the world. What kind of god would bless a middle-class white dude with unprecedented opportunity, while leaving whole other communities to starve?
Sorry… no.
Anyway, all of that having been said, it is pretty weird how this opportunity came to me. See, Chris and his quintet were playing a gig at the library. When the recital ended, he learned about the conference from the events coordinator. He called me, and, bam! I’m on my way to the conference.
Now, I didn’t have a perfectly stellar experience with the DFWcon. It was a great convention, and I am scheduled to attend next year, I just feel that I let myself down by choking so hard on my pitch session. I wasn’t looking to repeat that experience, so for this conference to pop up was a complete surprise. I had nothing prepared; I’d done no research. I just tossed myself in.
So that was last night. After dinner and the opening presentations ended, I decided that I should head on home (skipped the meet and greet and fled with my tail between my legs). Chris was waiting for me and we both squeed a little bit and got to talking about the event. He wagged a finger at me jsome for running away from an opportunity to speak to an agent (again), but instead of nagging, he sat with me and walked me through my pitch to help me build up some confidence about delivering it for real.
I did not sleep well last night. I think I woke up about … ninety-teen times. I don’t remember my dreams except that they were about people I used to know. I dragged myself out of bed an hour earlier than usual and did a tiny amount of research about this weekend’s agent (turns out he was already on my “to query” list).
I didn’t plan any of this! I intended to hang out with some friends today–take a day, off and easy. I wanted to put together some ideas for our D&D crew. But instead, I’m getting ready for a writing conference.
Sure, I know I said that I don’t believe God gives free opportunity to the privileged, while leaving the majority of humans to go hungry, but I have been praying for guidance–saying prayers like, “Please help me see opportunity, and help me find the courage to jump on it like a rabid, half-starved wildcat pounces on an overfed and quite slow-moving turkey.” And now here I am, gearing up for a last-minute event, bolstered by Chris’s coaching and the all-new pitch he helped me come up with. I’m nervous and hopeful. Wish me luck!
Oh, and in case I choke again this afternoon, my novel is an 80,000-word adult fantasy about the return of magic to earth, and the effect this has on a small apartment community in Midland, Texas.
Coming From a Dim Place 