I just got back from a four-day weekend extravaganza in Dayton, Ohio, which is a place that defies many electronic attempts at finding the correct road, direction, and exit ramp, and also home of the Erma Bombeck Writer’s Workshop.
It was fabulous. I’m not talking about the eight-hour drive that I blithely decided to do alone. For my own future reference: Employ national geography knowledge next time. Ohio is far away.
It wasn’t fabulous in a Sex and the City glam-fabulous way. Dayton, folks. Not the epicenter of all things that are happening in the world. Although there was talk of something something blah blah basketball. I don't know.
It was fabulous in the way that three hundred humor bloggers and book authors and wannabe writers convened and networked and met for the first time even if they were going to be sharing a hotel room. Writers are brave people, folks.
It was fabulous in the way we asked each other “What do you write?” and every answer was followed by an interesting conversation and an exchange of business cards and maybe even a picture or two.
It was fabulous in the way that three hundred people sat together in auditoriums and classrooms and learned what it was to be a writer, whether you write books or blogs or newspaper columns or in a journal that you keep in your nightstand.
It was fabulous in the way we all were inspired to write, and write, and then write some more. Because when you write you are a writer. I needed that inspiration, that validation.
It was fabulous in the way that we learned about the late Erma Bombeck and the legacy she left to the world of humor writers and especially to each individual writer whose goal is to marry every real message and truth with a laugh or two. After all, if you don’t laugh in this life, you will die in the corner weeping.
And it was fabulous because this happened:
|That's Phil Donahue!|
I'm pretty sure he fell in love with me at this moment.
In other news:
I’m featured on Mamalode today!
I’d love it if you visited me there to learn about how my kids’ growing into teens
is forcing me into a transition of my own.
Are you there yet? How are you doing? I’m still not sure if I’ll survive this parenting thing.