The conference lived up to its name; the entire desert appeared in full bloom upon our arrival in Phoenix. Met up with my agent and dear friend, Jill Corcoran, and fun began. My name badge as The Plot Whisperer seemed to part the waters; everyone was more than kind and often downright respectful to me. No Plot Whisperer books in the bookstore. They sold out before I even arrived (note to self: ask for a guarantee that the number of books available for sale equal the number of writers anticipated at my workshops)
Everywhere I turned were posters of book covers with women of incredible beauty clutching men of incredible strength oozing incredible desire. I fell in love with two young women writers, with their beauty and their belief and their earnestness. In the blinding desert light, a writer I had connected with just a few times on Facebook, albeit in a powerful way, freed me of a deep sadness as easily as if she waved a magic wand over my head. The heat of the sun lingered into the night.
I quaked a bit under the weight of the expectation writers expressed for my “keynote” plot workshop on the final day. The heat of 200 anxious writers radiated up to me high on the stage, firing hotter and hotter as more and more light bulb moments danced over their heads…
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