Three, two, one...

Three, two, one – ready or not – Dallas, here I come!!!

The reason I’m making the 3 ½ hour trek from Houston to the Big D is ‘cause I’m off to another writer’s conference. I pray this one turns out a little more successful than the one I went to in Colorado last year. Repeat after me – Murphy’s Law.

For those of you who might not be familiar with Mr. Murphy running rampid in their lives, let me fill you in on how he works. Oh, and to add a little flavor and make it a little more fun, I’m going to use a trick that Letterman uses – I’m going to give you Nettie’s Top 5 List.

How you know Murphy’s Law is present at a writer’s conference:

#5: You go to your first appointment with a publisher (which you signed up for beforehand) and give your spiel, only to be stopped after 5 minutes when the young girls (could have been your daughter) tells you their publishing house doesn’t take devotionals. You wonder why she didn’t stop you after 30 seconds. She must have known she didn’t take them then, too.

#4: Between classes, you go to the auditorium to familiarize yourself to where you’re meeting with an agent later in the day. You ask an official looking person with a badge on a question. Their response, “You need to get to your next class.” (Well, I hope you’re having a good day, too!!!)

#3: You’re sitting at one of the round table eating breakfast. You, and the others at the table, talk and laugh about a variety of subjects, but never does anyone mention who you’re sharing the meal with. Since you’re one to always entertain the crowd; you mention you’re a HUGE Elvis and Barry Manilow fan. Telling them your most embarrassing moment concerning Elvis (I promise I’ll share it in a later blog). Anyway, at the end of the meal you find out you’ve been sitting with a publisher from Bethany House and another lady, right next to you, is a multi-published author. So much for them wanting anything you’ve ever written.

#2: You and three friends decide to go into town for pizza the second night (what does this have to do with the writer’s conference – not a darn thing, but I know Murphy was responsible). As you’re leaving the YMCA grounds, one of the ladies sees a wolf, or two, or three (how many make a pack?). You yourself have never been up and personal with a wolf in all your years in Colorado, but you feel certain you are all safe behind the closed doors of the rented Ford. But your friend is beginning to hyperventilate and just stares out the rear window. She told you she was making sure they weren’t following us into town (JAT, I love ya, and you know who you are-HA!).

Drum roll, please!!!! The #1 reason is:

#1: You go back to the auditorium to meet with the agent. Your eyes catch sight of a commotion going on in front of her. You sit down to chat and she tells you what happened. The older man sitting on the floor had fallen down, and because of his advanced age the conference officials were afraid to move him. He sat there while you tried to talk to the agent. In the 5 minutes you spent with her, you only got to share a little bit about yourself. Even that, she didn’t seem interested in. Your work in progress not the big news of the afternoon. (Hey, maybe I should have sat down next to the older gentleman – might have gotten the agent's attention that way. I guess I’ll never know.)

So, now I’ve signed up for another conference, and boy, I can hardly wait to see what's going to happen. I just hope that Mr. Murphy stays home. I don’t think my writing career could take another dose of him this year.

nettie