Conventioneering

         What just might happen at a Writer's Cramp Convention? Anything. Yes, anything could happen. Amassing, attracting, inviting, luring a group of individuals who identify as writers to a gathering would be mind-blowing. Imagine harnessing all that raw creativity. Would it feel palpable? Would the proverbial sparks sizzle and arc?

         It would be noisy no question. The air would buzz, hum, with conversation. We'd babble, natter, chin wag, and more. Of course, we would. What else could walking, breathing thesauruses do? As we mixed and mingled our synapses sputtering, we'd observe each other sashay, mosey, scamper, sidle, two-step. Do we not interpret body language into vivid descriptions?

         I for one anticipate matching a face to a name, to step out from cover of my computer without fretting about typos, hurried word choices, and misconstrued nuances. Who else appreciates a raised eyebrow, a shrug, a nod of the head, waving arms, and other gestures of exuberance?

         Oh, my wish list for this meet and greet could induce vertigo. I enjoy the company of my fellow bloggers. Via our contributions we converse and share tantalizing clues to our personalities. This cross section of humanity is inspiring. Kåre เลียม Enga Sumojo Cappucine Merry_Mikey Apondia 💙 Carly-goodbye to 2024 wiesblaze Prosperous Snow celebrating BlueMoon Lyn's a Witchy Woman Samara ( I miss you!) These are but a few of the writers I've 'met'.

         {suser: elusive4lyn} organized virtual worldwide jaunts that proved fun. Daily we explored far flung exotic locales and blogged about our online adventures. We let loose. Anything could and did occur. No jet lag. No hangovers. No actual bruises. No indigestion. Plenty of souvenirs. I confess now that I am not a drinker and I especially despise beer. Sorry, I led you on. Via the travel blog I participated in European pub crawls and immersed myself in the atmosphere. Why not? While in Rome, or wherever.

         My imagination and I soared above teeming wildlife in Africa snug in a hot air balloon. I bounced and jostled atop a camel. I and my compadres robbed an opal mine in Australia. Bush natives taught us to camp. I believe we traipsed through every cathedral in Europe. We survived a fishing expedition fortified by spirits. We strolled through open air markets absorbing the colours, the teasing aromas, the cacophony.

         At this convention, Lyn's a Witchy Woman , could you finally teach me to balance atop an actual segway? As I may have mentioned once or thrice, I am a klutz devoid of coordination. During our romp amongst the Continent you assigned us this mode of transport repeatedly and I described my wobble and the terror I inflicted upon the poor locals. My muscles may not truly know how to react, so why not teach them in real time? I'm certain we may borrow the requisite safety gear. I could be a bobble head.

         Perhaps our intrepid and thirsty fellow writers would accompany me to a bustling pub, or bar, or watering hole. You may guzzle beer if you wish. I'll find something to imbibe.

         Oh, and if this meeting could exist in Texas I'd be thrilled. My stomach has read about barbecue and it would be eternally grateful and I'm sure sated. Do not worry. The chili I salivate over will not adversely affect anyone.

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