I spent Saturday downtown attending Literary Cleveland’s annual Inkubator Writing Conference. The first time I attended–last year–I intended to be an active conference-goer. I wore a name tag and jotted down email addresses of the presenters I enjoyed with plans to mimic my expensive year in an MFA program for markedly less money.
Instead, I was a fly on the wall for most of the day, absorbing conversations about writing craft and practice; elements I sorely miss in the blog world. This year, I didn’t even bother with the name tag. I bounced around the conference–sneaking into workshops I didn’t sign up for to listen, nod, and take copious notes. (My favorite was a Literary Journalism talk presented by a former MFA classmate who referred to Joan Didion as “Saint Joan.”)
I skipped the conference-provided lunch (I’m grown. I’m not eating a cold, boxed lunch) to enjoy the city experience: a good coffee, wandering between towering buildings, studying statues.
The day was a marriage of my favorite things, basically.