My Ultimate Writer’s Conference

You know what those writer’s conferences are all about! They stick a stupid name tag on you and then you schmooze with a bunch of other writers. If you pay money, you might get a ten second interview with a literary agent. So, you get to listen to them for hours and hopefully, you’re the lucky one they pick out of sea of other hopeless writers.

They always have people on that stage, you’ve never heard about. “This author sold xxx amount of books and is a best seller!” Funny… I don’t know who the fuck they are! I may have a vague clue, but honestly, I have never heard some of these authors before. And they always charge at least $150.00 per conference. That doesn’t include the extra charges. For an additional $275.00, you can spend ten minutes with a literary agent. That’s it? What the fuck? I don’t know about you, but I’m a tightwad. I don’t want to spend $35.00. I’m that tight with my money. I don’t want to make these bastards more money! You already made your money! Screwing me over for money, doesn’t benefit me in any way. I want to make money! How is this helping me?

And they always stick the most boring person they can find on a stage. Dude, I have a very short attention span. If you don’t grab my attention within the first five minutes, I’m gone. I’ve checked out. I’ll tweet out some funny things, while I’m sitting there. I’ll take a picture and put a dick by the picture. “That’s so immature of you!” For $500.00, I’m putting a dick by your head and adding a jar of Vaseline. Go on! I’ll put anything I want for that amount of cash that will end up in flames. And if they have punch, I’ll be the person spiking the fucker. Yeah, maybe it’s a good idea, I don’t attend conferences. I swore I would attend one but I know how it will end.

  1. I can’t wear heels or makeup. That’s due to autoimmune diseases. So, I’ll go in my comfortable apparel. That usually consists of a t-shirt, dark cargo pants, and tennis shoes. I may have time to style my hair or not. Don’t expect me to “dress to impress” you. That won’t happen for as long as my heart beats. I’ll wear the same attire to formal dinners. Maybe it’s best you give my invite to someone else. My skin says no itchy shit. I have to go with cotton and baggy shit. That’s who I am. Makeup isn’t me either. I’m allergic to a ton of makeup, even the organic cruelty-free makeup. What will happen is my face will break out in these super cool red splotches. I’m better off being me. I like my face the way it is. Plain Jane. That’s how I roll. I may wear a hat with my current logo on it. It depends on how my scalp feels. I have to be careful with that, too. My scalp will break out. You don’t have to live with my scalp.
  2. I don’t torture my hair. I like what hair, I haven’t pulled out yet. I don’t blow dry it, use hairspray, straightner, or curling iron. I have an ultra-sensitive scalp. Not to mention, my hair is brittle due to my autoimmune diseases. Wear a wig? Nah… I have a sensitive scalp. If it itches, it will leave huge welts on my scalp. No, thank you!
  3. I don’t like stuffy people. The ones, who can’t take a joke. They ramble on intelligently for hours. I have a short attention span. If that person hasn’t entertained me in some way, I’m out cold. I barely paid attention in school. I had that boring Biology teacher. The one who spoke in a monotone voice. I tried to pay attention to my Chemistry teacher, but I fell asleep. It didn’t help that I was working almost full-time hours at my part-time job at the time. I couldn’t stay awake. I would work until 11 pm and get up for school at 5 am. I had to do my homework when I got off work. They loaded my happy ass down with several hours of homework. I can’t handle that shit as an adult.

 

What would be my ultimate writer’s conference?

This one is super easy. My dream conference would have Stephen King, Kurt Sutter, Eli Roth, and Robert Kirkman. That would be a pretty cool panel. I can see paying a lot of money for them.

7:00-9:00 am: Who the fuck gets up that early? Go back to bed!

10:00-11:00 am: Who the fuck are you? Kurt Sutter

11:00-12:00 pm: Zombie history and writing zombies: Robert Kirkman

12:00-3:00 pm: Brutal ways to kill your protagonists/ “darlings”:  Eli Roth, Stephen King, Kurt Sutter, & Robert Kirkman.

3:00-4:00 pm: Take an hour lunch.

4:00-5:00 pm: Things to do with your character’s rectum: Kurt Sutter

5:00-6:00 pm: How to skin your character (while alive) with a lot of painful stuff, you couldn’t imagine using. Eli Roth.

6:00-7:00 pm: Household appliances, tools, or other shit to kill a character off: Stephen King.

7:00-8:00 pm: Hour dinner. But at this point, nobody would be hungry.

8:00-10:00 pm: We listen to your shitty query letters, which will suck.

10:00 pm: Go the fuck home. You’ll be a serial killer by the time you’re done. You’ll know how to dispose of a body properly and ways to torture your characters.

That would be my ultimate writer’s conference. There would be unlimited booze and music. Non-alcoholic beverages for people who don’t drink would be unlimited. Now that’s a writer’s conference. It would be fun, funny, and you know you’ll receive some smartass replies. I could live with that. That would make me fucking happy. You know they will be saying fuck a lot. That’s cool with me! Sign me up!

 

 

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