So, last week I attended the International Thriller Writers annual conference in New York City. It's where thriller writers of all walks of life come together to discuss writing, publishing, and network. You can meet anyone from R.L. Stine to Ken Follett to David Morrell to Diana Gabaldon. It's amazing really. All those people were there!
I also had the opportunity to make some friends with debut authors I'll keep you posted on and prepublished authors like myself. The weekend winds down with an awards banquet and after party. These thriller writers really know how to have a good time.
If you're a writer or even a fan of the genre it's worth the trip to NYC. I can't wait for next year.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Three For One
I wanted to write about staying positive, living a fulfilled life, stuff like that, but time is of the essence so I'm going to combine a few subjects into one post. Think of it like a two for one sale! And who doesn't love that? The guys might not care, but pretend.
First: check out Attacking The Page for a great blog post about how the Okinawans live. I promise you'll want to emulate these people. (This is the article I spoke about last time. See, it didn't take me so long to get it to you.) We all should be living a life filled with value. Are you?
Second: I went to a garage sale last weekend. I can't tell you the last time I went to one, but the sellers had displayed crystal glasses on a table and the sun caught the etched stemware and lit it on fire. I just had to take a closer look. Someone had died and their belongings, what was left of them I guess, were being sold for a few dollars. It got me thinking. Is this what becomes of us? The treasures that we held dear, ornaments that adorned Christmas trees, wine glasses we toasted with all being discarded for three dollars each? Does our legacy lead us to rickety tables in driveways in hopes someone will come along and see the beauty we did in it? Or do the things we held dear end up on the curb because no one thought the candle stick holders were worth five dollars? Oh, I know. It's not the sum of our "things" that make us who we are. It's our spirit and the choices we make in our lives, but along the way we've accessorized our lives with "things." It's all someone else can touch when we are gone. I just hope if my good china becomes nothing more than a few scattered pieces that someone will stop at the garage sale, pick it up and know there is a story behind it. One that must be told. How do you feel about it?
Third: I'm off to the sixth annual Thrillerfest hosted by the International Thriller Writers. I hope to learn great things about the craft, meet fantastic people, (maybe one or two who can advance the publishing dream a little) and have some fun. I'll report on more when I return.
Okay, so it was three stories for the price of one. But who's counting? Talk to you later...
First: check out Attacking The Page for a great blog post about how the Okinawans live. I promise you'll want to emulate these people. (This is the article I spoke about last time. See, it didn't take me so long to get it to you.) We all should be living a life filled with value. Are you?
Second: I went to a garage sale last weekend. I can't tell you the last time I went to one, but the sellers had displayed crystal glasses on a table and the sun caught the etched stemware and lit it on fire. I just had to take a closer look. Someone had died and their belongings, what was left of them I guess, were being sold for a few dollars. It got me thinking. Is this what becomes of us? The treasures that we held dear, ornaments that adorned Christmas trees, wine glasses we toasted with all being discarded for three dollars each? Does our legacy lead us to rickety tables in driveways in hopes someone will come along and see the beauty we did in it? Or do the things we held dear end up on the curb because no one thought the candle stick holders were worth five dollars? Oh, I know. It's not the sum of our "things" that make us who we are. It's our spirit and the choices we make in our lives, but along the way we've accessorized our lives with "things." It's all someone else can touch when we are gone. I just hope if my good china becomes nothing more than a few scattered pieces that someone will stop at the garage sale, pick it up and know there is a story behind it. One that must be told. How do you feel about it?
Third: I'm off to the sixth annual Thrillerfest hosted by the International Thriller Writers. I hope to learn great things about the craft, meet fantastic people, (maybe one or two who can advance the publishing dream a little) and have some fun. I'll report on more when I return.
Okay, so it was three stories for the price of one. But who's counting? Talk to you later...
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