Making It Real

Making It Real

Ever since I joined Writing.Com, I have read numerous stories about Writing.Com Conventions. It was the combination of the numerous Convention stories, and interaction with the members, who attended these Conventions that lit a burning desire in me to want to experience a Writing.Com Convention for myself. Everyone can read "Invalid Item"  , "Invalid Item"  , "Invalid Item"  , "The Very First Convention"  [E], and yes, these are the same stories that absolutely convinced me I was really going to be missing something very special if I missed the 2005 Convention.

I had more questions than I had answers when the opportunity to sign up to attend the 2005 Writing.Com Convention presented itself. Bethlehem, Pennsylvania is certainly a very long way from my down the bayou, South Louisiana, Cajun home. Bethlehem is definitely way far north, and Lord knows Southerners, by tradition, don’t fair well when they go north, but I had failed miserably in all my attempts to get The StoryMaster to even consider holding a Southern Writing.Com Convention.

Signing up to attend the Convention was really easy, and to make matters even easier The StoryMaster made a more than reasonable payment plan available, as well as an application to apply for a scholarship. Whoa! In all the stories I had read about the previous years conventions, nobody ever mentioned how considerate, and helpful StoryMaster had been with budget planning by offering a payment plan option and nobody ever mentioned Scholarships. I am almost certain even I would have remembered those critical little details, only if someone had mentioned it, just once. Yes, of course, everybody talked about the auction, about the bidding wars, about how much fun everybody had, and about the very special donated items, but somehow translating Auction into meaning Scholarships for Writing.Com members to attend future Writing.Com Conventions was totally lost on me. I evidently have problems with noticing the very obvious.

The Registration Page created by The StoryMistress contained every bit of information anyone would need - even me, who can't see the trees for forest. Event dates, and Event Location were clearly posted, along with a complete list of the accommodations available at the Hotel, including an exhaustive list of directions. There was also individual links to fifteen member’s stories about the previous year’s convention.

I figured all I had to do was make my regular budgeted payments, and stay healthy and alive until Convention time rolled around. I was not expecting to be provided with so many little teasers leading up to the actual start of the 2005 Convention.

The StoryMistress created the Writing.Com Lounge for all the Convention attendees to chit chat in while we impatiently waited for July 21st, 2005 to arrive. And chat we did, about everything and anything - even to the point that I was really beginning to worry. Sometimes, I am easily alarmed over relatively innocent goings ons. My husband says it's a Southern Mother Hen/House Mouse thing. It wasn't until I got actively involved in posting, instead of just reading, in OUR Convention attendee lounge that I really relaxed.

And the teasers didn't end with a forum here and there for Convention goers. One day a small black box arrived in the mail addressed to me from The StoryMaster and The StoryMistress . I've received one other such surprise package from them before, so I knew whatever was in my little black box would be delightful. Inside my little black treasure box was a perfectly executed invitation to the Masquerade Ball, along with a simple black mask, and the tiniest of notes that read, "Wear it plain, decorate it or buy your own!" Now, I've read numerous stories about how perfect The StoryMistress's sense of style is, and they're all absolutely true. The invitation was banded by a wide, black and white diamond patterned sleeve, tied with a silk ribbon, and decorated very tastefully by the most delicate of black, red, and maroon feathers. The lettering was impeccable. The invitation and mask rested on a cloud-like mass of shimmering silver icicles. Perfectly exquisite! What a class act!

From the minute I officially signed up to attend the 2005 Writing.Com Convention until about two weeks before its start, I had been working on my auction items. I decided that a basket of Louisiana goodies would be appropriate; since I sew I decided to make two aprons to include with the traditional Louisiana goodies that I planned to buy at the grocery store a day or two before getting on the plane. I completed the aprons in about a week, and then realized that I still had about eight months before the start of the Convention, so I decided that since the Masquerade Ball is going to be a formal affair I’d sew my outfit, instead of buying or renting one.

Of course, since New Orleans is the world headquarters for everything concerning costumes with all the annual Mardi Gras Carnival events, I probably should have just rented a costume, but then again, I’m not really a costume type individual. I just figured a long formal black skirt would do just fine, with an appropriate formal looking, but comfortable top. With the Masquerade Ball costume feat accomplished, I realized I still had six more months to endure before the start of the Convention.

In my highly excited, enthusiastic, impatient state of mind concerning attending the Convention, and the anticipation of meeting so many of the Writing.Com members, I devoted most of the next six months to putting together yet another auction item, and ordering a custom made picture frame.

For eight months, I had planned to drive to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, but of course just two short weeks before the Convention my husband nix’s the idea of my driving, and informs me that I will have to fly. I hate flying, absolutely hate it, but after he heard me on the phone making my plane reservations, he finally realized I was serious about attending this Convention, regardless of whether I was forced to fly or not. It was then that he decided he would escort me to the Convention. I don’t know what he thought I had been doing for almost a whole year, maybe ~ what? Pretending I was going to the Convention?

With driving no longer being a choice, I suddenly realized that there was no possible way to carry my last two items for the auction on the plane. After making a somewhat panicky call to the wonderful Hotel StoryMaster and StoryMistress had selected for the Convention, it was decided that I could send my two auction items by UPS to the Hotel – another possible disaster thwarted.

The day before we were scheduled to fly to Bethlehem, PA to attend the convention, sleep was impossible. We boarded the plane in New Orleans at 5:40 am on the morning of July 21st, for the first leg of the day’s journey to Bethlehem. Shortly after arriving in Atlanta, we boarded the second plane that would take us to Philadelphia, PA., where we would have the opportunity to meet Andrea . Andrea was waiting for us just as we stepped out of the concourse at the airport. She is beautiful, has the most delightful accent, and had traveled much farther than we did to attend this wonderful event.

The drive to the Gateway Convention Center was almost uneventful, except for the fact that I almost caused a major car accident within mere feet of the Hotel’s entrance. Let’s just say that hilly terrain confuses this Flat Lander from Louisiana, not to mention the fact that I hadn’t had any sleep for 24 hours, I was starving, and we had finally arrived!

There was considerable confusion in the extremely busy hotel lobby due to an extended power outage caused by a suicidal squirrel. There was also this big yellow box looking item made out of only God knows how many yellow balloons, and when I say big, I mean big. The yellow balloon box must have been at least five feet wide and long, as well as five feet tall. It turned out that the big, very yellow balloon box belonged to a different group of conventioneers, or course. There is no way to explain how relieved I was that the yellow balloon box did not belong to Writing.Com group, as my sleep deprived mind could not recall anything that could remotely be considered a point of reference about a big, yellow balloon box. I really was afraid that once again I had missed something very obvious.

Without so much as a by your leave, I abandoned my husband in the crowded lobby to go find the Writing.Com registration table, which turned out to be in a meeting room called the Lafayette room (Good Omen. Lafayette - a word that I've always thought of as a truly unique Cajun word.). As I followed the arrows, down what seemed like long, endless corridors, to the Lafayette room I spotted what appeared to be more conventioneers. As I stopped walking, in an attempt to read the names on their swinging and swaying badges hanging around their necks, the three women also stopped, and then held up their low hanging badges. IT WAS peanut , wannabe , and MaryLou , all of whom would have been my roommates, if only my husband hadn’t of decided, at the last minute, to escort me. Our excited greetings only took a minute, and then they assured me I was on the right trek to where the Convention registration was on going. As I approached the door way to the Lafayette room, I grabbed my digital camera, and just started snapping away as I walked up to the registration table. Although I was exhausted from lack of sleep and food, I was shocked and awed at actually seeing The StoryMistress , and catwoman up close and in person. All I will say is that these two women, who stood directly across the registration table from me, did not remotely look like in person as I had imagined. We exchanged friendly, warm greetings, and I was immediately loaded down with the promised goodie bag. I had barely noticed anybody or anything in the room, until after I had finished officially registering.

Registration took only minutes, and then as I turned around hoping to see a few familiar names on Convention badges, I was simply overwhelmed by all the peoples’ faces, and absolutely delighted to see so many familiar Writing.Com user names. It was amazing, simple amazing.

The Lafayette room was jam packed with Writing.Com Conventioneers, two long refreshment tables, chairs, luggage, and goody bags in various stages of being explored. After spending some time greeting people, who all seemed like long lost friends to me, I grabbed a cup of coffee (Ah… coffee!), and then took a seat at the first table that had available space. In the center of the table was a big white box, directly in the center, which I tried to hide behind to give myself some time to physically, and emotionally regroup from the day's travel, and the overwhelming emotions that come with meeting so many new people face to face, for the first time, at a Convention I had long anticipated attending. Impossible, as I barely had time to sweeten my cup of coffee, the wonderfully hot nectar of life, before Chriswriter joined me, and we began exploring the directions on the big white box. So many others joined us that it is simply impossible for me to remember each of their names, but there we all were, with Chriswriter reaching into section A of the box, and then pulling out a rather innocent looking, individual square of paper, which she would then read outloud some of the most outlandish questions ever written. The neatly printed instructions on the big white box were wasted on this group. I think we were suppose to read the question, and calmly, like civilized people, discuss our individual answers – not going to happen with this group! We laughed till we cried. Then, as a group, we began composing the most outrageous answers to the various questions, and writing the answers on the little squares of paper, with Chriswriter being the biggest instigator. She is a hysterically funny woman.

After some time, I figured I should probably go look for my husband, whom I had abandoned in the hotel lobby. As I was retracing my steps to the lobby, I spied a very relaxed, casually dressed man approaching. Just as we were about to pass each other, I turned and quizzed, “StoryMaster?”, and once the word left my mouth, I knew full well that if this man was not the StoryMaster, then I would certainly be thought to be crazy. Luckily, the man smiled warmly, held out his hand, and it was all I could do to stop myself from grabbing him, and giving him a big hug. We shock hands, and I introduced myself, first as The Critic of course, and then by my regular name, which here meant nothing. I don’t think I was quite what he expected either, and that I assure all of you, who are reading this, is probably a very good thing.

I finally reached the hotel lobby, where my husband was patiently waiting for our hotel room, and for me. I then remembered about the two packages that I had shipped via UPS to the hotel. I was too weak to carry these two rather cumbersome boxes all the way back to the Lafayette Room, so a very nice Hotel employee offered to take the boxes for me, but I wish I had a picture of the expression on the man’s face when I told him to give the packages to the The StoryMistress , and tell her that the packages are from The Critic for the auction. As the poor man stood there, looking somewhat stunned, obviously thinking this was some kind of joke, and surely thinking that he had simply misunderstood what I had just said, several other Writing.Com convention attendees reassured him, by gleefully explaining, “There really is a The StoryMistress in the Lafayette room, and she really is The Critic ”

Since the squirrel’s suicide earlier that morning would delay our checking into our room until around four o’clock in the afternoon, I collapsed on the nearest sofa in the lobby. Many other convention attendees had the same idea, and soon the lobby was filled with very tired, but still very entertaining writers’. GoCartCherub- St Louis U was laid out on a sofa directly across from me. She is young, beautiful, and absolutely delightful, although obviously exhausted, just like the rest of us, GoCartCherub- St Louis U was delightful. The StoryMaster soon joined us, and it made the time pass very quickly. There were more introductions. The Yellow Box convention people seemed to be a little wary of our group, and God only knows what the other poor unsuspecting hotel guest were thinking – I don’t even want to imagine.

Dinner that first night had originally been scheduled for 6 pm, but had to be rescheduled for 7 pm due to the havoc caused by the death of the suicidal squirrel. It was a little after five o’clock pm, when I realized as I was trudging to my room that my day was officially physically over. I’d miss dinner, and all the other first night convention activities.

The next morning I awoke feeling much better and well rested. I was actually amazed at how comfortable the hotel’s bed was. I thought I had just been lucky, and gotten a room with a good bed, but I over heard many of my fellow Writing.Com convention attendees comment about how comfortable they also found the beds in their rooms.

Friday morning I ate breakfast twice, first with my husband as soon the hotel restaurant opened 6:30 in the morning, and then again at 9:00 am with my Writing.Com family. After all, I had missed supper the night before. Well, I can testify that the breakfast we were served as Convention goers was every bit as good, if not better than the food available in the Hotel restaurant. And I can honestly say that all the food served at each and every meal was delicious. Yes, I am qualified to be a Food Critic, after all I come from Louisiana, where we eat not just because we are hungry, but because food is just that good.

Friday’s creative activities proved to be very memorable. I had the opportunity to meet so many other Writing.Com members. All the time I had spent the last couple of months worrying about what it would be like to meet so many people was proven to be total waste of time. Being in various sized hotel meeting rooms, filled with other Writing.Com members, seemed totally similar to spending an entire day in cyberspace on Writing.Com – absolutely. The only real difference was this was REAL. One of the nicest, and most interesting part of attending the 2005 Writing.Com Convention was not only seeing The StoryMaster and The StoryMistress up close and personal with my own eyes, but being able to interact with each of them, and finding out that both, generously and genuinely, take the time to make Writing.Com so much more than just a website.

The Writing.Com Convention is similar to actually participating in an adult version of the Walt Disney version of Babes In Toyland where everything magically comes to life. All the various and assorted personalities of the characters begin to make sense. For this one brief and fleeting weekend in July 2005, our Writing.Com personalities emerge from behind the veil of our online personas, and in the truest sense of the word, we all become very REAL, flesh and blood, individual people.

Throughout my life, I have attended my share of Conventions, all of which have been commercially motivated for the benefit of a some group or organization. If there is a commercial motivation to the Writing.Com Convention, I certainly missed it. In my humble opinion, it takes very innovative, talented, unique, and brave people, under the guise of The StoryMaster and The StoryMistress , to dare put together, much less pull off, such a wonderful, entertaining, globally attended event as this year’s Writing.Com Convention.

The time and exacting thought put into every last detail concerning the Writing.Com Convention experience was evident, and all because of two people’s painstaking efforts to make Writing.Com real. The unselfish planning of the auction, for the benefit of the next year’s convention attendees, is proof enough that the auction is so much more than just another stuffy fund raiser. Each Convention attendee is allowed and trusted to become personally involved by donating a creative item to be auctioned.

The individual talents of the Writing.Com Convention attendees were showcased during the auction. The auction had to defy all possible statistical probabilities that could be used to predict the likelihood of being able to find, inspire, and involve that many gifted, talented, and generous people in one event. Add to that the logistics of getting them all together from around the world, at one Hotel, and at one Convention, much less in one room is a truely an amazing feat to observe. The Writing.Com Convention auction is truely one of those events that you must experience to believe.

The Writing.Com Convention experience provided me with the opportunity to meet the most wonderful, entertaining, talented, hysterically funny, generous people, as well as the opportunity to experience a kind of fellowship that is just not possible in cyberspace. Now when I read a poem, a story, a review, or a forum comment that anyone of my fellow Convention attendees post on Writing.Com I will be able to hear their voice, to recall the sound of their laughter, and picture their smiling faces as I venture through cyberspace on the Writing.Com website.

So, if anyone reading this has doubts about what is to be gained, or risked, by attending a Writing.Com Convention, I can only tell you, in my humble opinion, attending a Writing.Com Convention is a once in a life time experience that you will want to participate in again, and again… year after year.