Attack of the Mile-High Writers’ Conference

I finally registered for the Pikes Peak Writers’ Conference in April. I managed to get time off from work to actually go, and if that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is. So, I filled out forms, and pressed send, and now, I’m going.

So, clearly, the first problem is underwear–

No, wait. That’s packing for a dance competition.

Fair enough. I won’t be spending all that much time upside-down at Pikes Peak. This is so complicated!

Aside from figuring out exactly what I’m going to wear, and exactly the right memorable, but non-freakish haircut, I’m working my way through the scenes I need to add to my novel revision. I have a neat, tidy checklist of the things my novel can’t live without. I’m typing in a couple of them, today, and I’m working on more, after I get done with that.

Odds of novel being actually, legitimately ready to go by the end of April?

Probably right around zero.

But I am getting closer. I have… a plan!

Naturally, I’m falling into that phase of revision where I’m sure that my novel sucks, and the best thing I could possibly do for it involves an acetylene torch and some marshmallows. Big marshmallows.

I’m hoping to slip back into the This is the greatest thing the human mind has ever conceived! stage before the conference. We’ll see.

So, my general game plan is to track down a few friends I know will be there, and then figure out the rest of my schedule.

Any other suggestions for me?

 

Postcard From The Road

So, here’s a quick picture from the middle of nowhere. This brick mural comes to you from a small airport somewhere in Kansas. And yes, today, I’m actually using one of my own photos.

I suppose I could have asked for details about this airport, but I’m pretty sure nobody was there at the time. It’s a really nice, well-maintained airport. It has a brick mural and an obelisk. But it’s not the busiest place on the face of the earth. If I’d have to guess, I’d say you can land a crop duster here without much planning, but doctors call ahead to be sure somebody turns on the lights, if they’re going to land at night.

No commercial flights, but it is pie-adjacent, if you’re so inclined.

Snapped some pictures for you on my way through Iowa City

For those of you who don’t know, Iowa City is one of the fabulous International Cities of the Book. So a very writer-friendly, literature-focused atmosphere. It might be one of my favorite places. This time, I barely brushed the outskirts, but that’s enough to get you… More rest area art.

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Someday, I would like a wedding under the giant fountain pen nib.  It doesn’t have to be my wedding. Any wedding will do. The bridesmaids could all dress up as ink blots.
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In case you missed it, this typeset mural is the entrance to the Women’s restroom. There’s one with Ms on the Men’s side, but after this, let’s be honest. After this, that’s just a let down.

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Floor swirls, again.  It said something I thought I would remember, but I don’t.

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More type setting themed art, and penmanship in the background. Stop squinting. It says “Iowa”. On the building and the benches.  The picnic area has shelters that include passages from various books and poems, but no pictures, because that was past where my car was parked.