This week is the RWA (Romance Writers of America) national conference. I stopped going to this years ago. The longer I went, the more I discovered that the panels and discussions were the same, repackaged and updated but the same every year nonetheless. Each year, I had a hard time finding new things to interest me and it began an endless cycle of business panels about marketing and brand building that I could get on YouTube for free instead of the cost of registration, travel, and just eating. As a not very successful author, I have limited funds for this type of thing.

Also, every year, I realized more and more how I am not a romance writer. I don’t miss sitting through endless panels that didn’t apply to me and trying desperately to gleam some bit of useful information from them. Also, sitting through presentations and awards that I never qualify for because I don’t fit into their box was frustrating.

I don’t miss the throng of people. As we’ve discussed previously, people exhaust me. I am not the extrovert to go out there and just be. One of the reasons I love writing is because it’s a solitary occupation. I can get in my own head and play around in there for a while. That is very appealing to me. I think it’s appealing to quite a few writers.

This week I’ve been watching the pictures of all my friends on Facebook who are at RWA in Denver this week and feeling a bit . . . nostalgic maybe. I’ve met some amazing people at conferences. But I also have friends that I haven’t seen since Scarlett was born because, you know – baby/toddler. There they are at RWA having a blast. There’s a part of me that is jealous that they’re having all the fun and I’m not. There’s another part of me that understands, I would not have been having that fun with them. I probably would’ve been hiding in my room, recouping from exposure.

So there you have it, a mixed bag of emotions and kinda regret but not really.