I spent yesterday at a local writers' conference. I decided to go in an attempt to find my missing motivation. In the past, I've walked away with mixed feelings about conferences. A lot of the time, some of the information is obvious. Other times, the editors and agents in attendance aren't looking for the types of manuscripts I'm writing. And then I usually end up with the dilemma that all of the breakout sessions I want to attend are being held at the exact same time, either requiring me to learn how to be in two places at once or requiring me to gain spy skills and bug the other sessions.
This time was actually more enjoyable. It was only one day, which was much more pleasant than one of the stretched out three day affairs. They had tasty desserts at lunch. Plus, I had an AWESOME conversation with one of the published writers who was there speaking. It was very cool and inspiring. And by "inspiring," I mean she gave me a few ideas that involve making some major changes to my latest manuscript before I send it out again.
There is work to be done, my friends!
In other news, I'm rereading a short work of creative nonfiction that I wrote three years ago in the hope of shortening it. I couldn't help but notice my three-year-ago voice sounded kind of snooty. Since I didn't plan to sound snooty when I was writing the piece, does this mean I was snooty?!