In case you missed it, this past weekend was SIWC, aka Surrey International Writers Conference, and if you weren’t there, then I guess you missed it! Needless to say, I’m still coming down from the high. But today I want to talk about what other, non-writer people think. Say for instance, my husband, (although he is a songwriter, but that is an entirely different animal).
Hubby tells our friends, “My wife is at a writers’ conference. I don’t know what they do there. Read, I guess, and write. It’s a pretty quiet conference.”
It’s funny, but probably not an uncommon notion by those who don’t write for pleasure. And yet, at least 800 people showed up. Who are these people? And you can’t tell they are writers by looking, either. They are men and women, young, and old and everything in between.
Like members of a secret society, we are the kind who quietly hammer out words in seclusion and solitude and most people don’t even know we have this other life outside our day job and family obligations. This is especially true for unpublished writers. Sometimes I feel like a little mouse, timidly admitting, that yes, I do still write a bit, on the side.
And that’s why I loved the conference. We all knew the reason we gathered together. We love to write, and we love to talk about writing. And it’s okay to go on and on about it. Nobody minds.
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