The Conference

My name is Molly Steere, and I think farts are funny.

Is there a support group for this?  Because it was demonstrated on several occasions last weekend that other people apparently DON’T think farts are funny.  Or at least they pretend they don’t.  Side note:  I’m sure my mom is extremely proud that her well-educated daughter is writing about farts.  Hi Mom!

Last weekend was the Write on the River conference (fantastic – check it out) and I was super excited to attend for the third year in a row.  Excited, but also sick and I hadn’t slept much in the previous days.  Exhaustion.  Since I was meeting my friend Kim at the conference, I told her she’d find me dry humping the coffee machine.  (Now my dad is cringing.  But hey, at least I’m not talking about tampons like our keynote speaker.  She was AWESOME.)

So, I have my way with the coffee machine and then we listen to Chelsea Cain tell hilarious stories about tampons.  What, you thought I’d let it go at just ONE mention?

Our first workshop was Bob Mayer teaching us how to be Writing Warriors, and he’s name dropping like nobody’s business.  Seriously, the guy is great, but this should have been a drinking contest.  Jennifer Crusie.  Take a shot.  Nora Roberts.  Take a shot.  Navy Seals.  DOUBLE!

Out of nowhere, there’s a flurry of activity, a giant ripper of a fart, and then the door closing.

You guys, no one reacted.  I felt like I was in slow motion as I turned to Kim, wide-eyed, and mouthed DID THAT JUST HAPPEN?

It did happen.  And I did not take it in stride.  No, I got the giggles.  And when I heard Kim snicker, I escalated to the open-mouthed silent laugh that just makes occasional clicking sounds.  You know the one I’m talking about.  So, I have to actually put my head down on my desk, like I’m seven, and drool on my arm.  Meanwhile, I can hear what sounds like heavy breathing into a paper cup.  I find out later that Kim was trying to cover her face with her coffee cup so no one would notice her giggling.  The jury’s still out on whether that technique worked or not.

In the meantime, the entire classroom is acting AS IF NOTHING HAPPENED.  The rest of the workshop seemed like an eternity.  I had to stare intently at my desk, for fear of making eye contact with Kim and starting the whole scene again.  Luckily, we still had the drinking game to keep us busy.  Jennifer Crusie.  Take a shot!

The worst part?  There were several more farting incidences during the conference.  It wasn’t me, I swear.  Apparently – and here’s your take away – writers fart a lot.  And I will think it’s funny EVERY SINGLE TIME.

P.S. Do you remember last year’s writing conference entry, aptly named Agent of Humiliation?  This year’s meeting with agent Verna Dreisbach was far better.   Let’s face it, it couldn’t have gone worse than last year.  Anyway, she wants to see the first chapter of my young adult novel.  I should probably be crafting a query letter instead of writing about farts…