Always be careful

A very long time ago, during my first attempt at serious writing--yeah, back when I was trying to join my local chapter again--I thought conferences were the way to go. Face to face contact, the opportunity to pitch, the company of other "serious writers" like me.

It didn't take me long to realize you can leave high school, but you never leave cliques. Cliques are simply nature's way of sorting people into compatible sub-sets. I had no one to talk to and the one editor appointment I got was with the owner/editor of a house so small she was using free vista-print cards with ads on the back. I had no clue what kind of material her house bought, so of course I pitched Hot Contract. Turns out she only wanted erotic multi-culturals. She asked for a partial, but by then I'd added up all the subliminal clues and said, "uhm....my characters are of mixed race, but mostly Asian. And I think I have one hot sex scene."

She was really polite, and insisted, but I was really polite and said, "thanks but no thanks. It's a waste of both our times." The next year--by then I stopped going to the chapter meetings and just went to the conferences--I was late for the orientation lunch and almost ran over a really slow woman in the hall outside the conference room. Of course, I was borderline nasty, and she was beet-red. Which didn't help my pitch, because the woman turned out to be a big editor from Kensington, and my appointment went sort of like, "Oh my God. I'm so sorry." And her, "Hey! I recognize you."

The last small conference I went to contained--oh joy!--two of my friends from when I used to be a bookseller. Bookselling is a small world--like writers, we all know each other. For no reason other than it was a bookseller thing, I got to hang out and talk to Nora Roberts for an hour because Mary knew her. This time my appointment was with an editor from Avon. But she was "Laura Kinsale's editor" and I was in total awe. I didn't even bother pitching. I simply pumped her for information. All in all, a very nice day, but non-productive.

Years passed, and I decided maybe the "big" conference would be better. I was so fatalistic, I figured, okay--I'll check pictures, and blogs, and interests, agent likes and dislikes, and editorial preferences. I'll do my very best, throw everything I have at it, and if I sell, I sell, and if I don't, there's always next year.

I got so many requests, I got requests for things I hadn't even written yet. In the years it took me to start writing again, I'd learned to like who I am. I'm not the nicest person, and if I'm touchie-feelie I must be keeping it in a bag or something, because I don't have it on me. But...it worked because I wasn't trying to play anyone.

But I always know who I'm approaching, what they buy and don't buy--what they absolutely hate, a general idea of what they look like, and I never, ever push around people in a nasty way, because agents and editors look like people, and they blend.