Conferences and Golf--Both Are Hard Work

This past weekend my co-writer daughter Christina and I attended the Christian Writers Renewal held at Seattle Pacific University. I'm hoping the renewal part will hit in another day or two, as so far it's mostly been about feeling exhausted from being there! Simply said, it was a jam-packed weekend.

We talked our husbands into going along with us, as a sort of mini-vacation. "You guys can drop us off at the campus Friday at noon, and then spend the rest of the day golfing. We'll be back at the motel early enough to spend time in the hot tub before getting a good night's sleep. On Saturday you could go hang out at the Harley store and dream of screaminging down highways, the wind at your back."

They fell for our convincing spiel. (After all, we do write fiction.) Christina and Kevin took their two children to a friend's house late Thursday night so we could get an early start on Friday. By the time we got to Seattle around 11, the sky was beginning to clear and the guys were drooling at the thought of their upcoming golf game. We all ate an early lunch together, then they let us off on campus.

Christina and I were kept busy the rest of Friday and all day Saturday meeting with editors/authors and attending classes. We continued to learn more about the craft of writing and the book industry in general. Along the way we made some new friends and were able to spend quality time with people we've met at other writing conferences.

Turns out our experience was much better than the one our husbands had golfing. In fact, it was so bad that Christina's husband, Kevin, refuses to even acknowledge that they went golfing! And this from a man who loves to play. Turns out they went to a course that was right next to the airport and the jets were constantly flying overhead. It was so loud that John had to put earplugs in to protect his I-make-a-living-tuning-pianos ears. The greens were poorly maintained and nearly impossible to play. At least to play well. Kevin quit keeping score by the fourth hole. For some reason they opted out of going to the Harley store on Saturday, though I'm not sure why. The more I think about it, however, they probably couldn't bring themselves to brave the craziness of the Seattle traffic and streets. They kept telling us that "it's impossible to get there from here" no matter what "here" and "there" we were talking about!

Now we're back in our quiet little berg of Gaston. We're not sleeping next to the Space Needle at night, but I think the douglas firs crowning our hills are even more beautiful than that tourist attraction. And there's certainly no chance of getting lost on the way home.