Mommy Writes

I didn’t want to go. I knew it would happen.

Last Saturday, I packed my diaper bag with binders and a notebook instead of the usual wipes and pull-ups. I drove one hour to expand my writing horizon. And I left feeling…well, cheap.

I’ve said it once, but it’s worth saying again…I AM NOT A LITERARY WRITER. I cannot write literary stuff. It is impossible. I hate reading it. So, therefore, I hate even attempting to write it. Does this make me a lesser writer? Well, I guess it does.

(As a note - this also applies to grammar and spelling which, according to my junior year high school English teacher, I am also terrible at - thank you Mrs. Spiro for boosting the confidence of a budding writer!)

I’ve been to probably about ten writers’ conferences. Four of which were big deal ones - the type that are crowded, powerful, make you want to write… I took a small class taught by Jennifer Cruise (she was great and real!) and by Donald Maas (tells it to you straight). But, in this conference, I got to sit next to people who are obviously smarter than me. Yes, much smarter. Much more well read. Much more la-de-da-da (that’s a technical term). And they were dying to prove it.

(Exception was two very nice women who I hope read this - they grimaced with me as every writer who does not write literary fiction or thick, heady non-fiction was dismissed with a shrug).

Any discussion of mainstream or commercial fiction was dismissed by the instructor as “well, I don’t read that stuff”. And, the mere thought that creative non-fiction might have some composite characters or “fudging” was unthinkable to another. Um - did they miss that “creative” word? (Thanks James Frey for screwing all of us!)

And my favorite quotes:

“Don’t write for the market.” - Literary journal editor

“Just be patient. Write. We’ll get back to you eventually.” - Another literary journal editor who was explaining their need to hold onto your submission (exclusively) for 4 -6 months.

“My girlfriend was reading her. I don’t know her, how do you say her name?” - Instructor for fiction writing class in answer to a question about Jodie Picoult.

“No one takes electronic submissions. We don’t want to read off of the computer screen.” - Editor requesting that submissions be sent through the mail. Something I have not done in over two years.

The topper was when I saw a person sitting next to me angrily scrawling my name down in his notebook (most likely to Google later - Hi Mr. Conference Guy who didn’t like my stance on creative non-fiction!).

Or maybe the best part was when I suggested to a woman that she work through her non-fiction book by writing smaller pieces, maybe for a book like Chicken Soup for the Soul or Cup of Comfort:

“I would never write for one of those publications.”

It might be awhile before I go to another writers’ conference.