Four Secrets About Writer’s Conference Faculty

April 18, 2012 by • Marcy's Blog, Writing • Tags: , , , , , , • 28 Comments

Inside the Brain of Writer's Conference FacultyIt’s writer’s conference season again, and as someone who’s gone to multiple conferences, both as an attendee and as faculty, I wanted to share with you the top four things the faculty and presenters at writer’s conferences (including agents and editors) wish you knew.

(1) We can tell from a 15 minute appointment who is going to succeed and who is going to fail.

You probably think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. It’s that obvious.

So what are some of the factors signaling success in a person’s future?

  • a willingness to learn and work hard
  • questions showing an understanding of what I said
  • the ability to clearly tell me what you need my help with (or the acknowledgment you’re just starting out and aren’t even sure what your first step should be)
  • evidence you did your research ahead of time

(And please remember – even if they seen potential in you, you might not be ready yet. Would you want to eat an unripe banana? Whether or not an agent or editor asks to see more after a conference should never be taken as a clear sign of your future potential.)

What makes these so important?

Hard work and teachability trump talent every day.

Asking questions (or taking notes) shows that you’re listening, digesting, and are likely to apply what you’ve learned later.

If you know what you need my help with, you know your weaknesses. Recognizing them is the first step in fixing them. If you sit down with me and can’t even explain what you want in a way I can understand, it’s also going to be difficult for you to move forward and get your message across to readers.

If you don’t take the time to read carefully or to research the specialties of conference faculty before speaking to them, it’s a sign that you’ll also query agents and editors randomly. At the last conference I taught at, I had two separate people book appointments with me because they wanted to know how to code and design a website themselves. My bio (on the conference website, my website, and the wall behind my head) said nothing about website design. The best I could do was give them the name of the company who designed my website.

(2) There’s nothing in it for us except the desire to see others succeed.

In the past, the small honorarium I’ve received to come and teach isn’t enough to cover my expenses (though I know this does vary by conference). Monetarily, teaching at conferences is often a loss even for faculty who have books to sell.

Agents and editors come in the hope of finding a new author. Other writers come because they want the chance to give back.

The point to take away from this is that you should take the advice they give you seriously. Don’t brush it off because they accidentally wounded your pride. They want you to do well. Sometimes that means handing out a dose of tough love.

(3) Our days are longer than yours.

Faculty members put in 14 hour days. On one day alone at the last conference we taught at, my co-writer and I put in 17 hours, including teaching a class, an impromptu workshop, almost four hours of one-on-one appointments with attendees, a working lunch, a working supper, informal meetings . . . you get the picture. And unlike attendees, we can’t just take off for an hour to rest.

We were happy to do it. We hope to do it again. But it’s exhausting to always be “on.”

So what? (Yup, I could hear you asking that.)

If at any point you feel like a conference faculty member is brushing you off, ignoring you, belittling you, or didn’t want to talk to you, the truth is they were probably just tired. And since they’re human, exhaustion affects them negatively. Know that they’re trying their best, and don’t take it personally.

(4) We find it overwhelming (and flattering) that everyone knows who we are.

At Write! Canada, where I taught last summer, people I’d never met knew me by sight. Few happenings in my life have been as humbling. I’m really not cool enough to be that well known. In fact, I’m geeky and clumsy and boring more often than I care to admit. (If you don’t believe me, just ask my family.)

The take away here is that if a faculty member forgets your name, don’t take it personally. (And always wear your name tag so we don’t feel like idiots for not knowing your name.) You already know them, but they’ve probably had 10 new names thrown at them in the last half an hour alone.

When you get a chance to talk to them, ask all your writing-related questions (that’s why you’re there after all), but also try to connect with them on something you have in common. Then, if you email them later, you can mention the conversation about such-and-such that you enjoyed and it will jog their memory.

If you’re a conference veteran, what’s the single best piece of advice you’d give to someone new to conferences? If you’re considering going to your first conference, what’s your biggest question or fear?

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