My writers’ conference is moderately interesting so far. Fortunately, I am autodidactic, which means I never met a person I couldn’t learn from. This conference cost a third of what the Taos conference cost last year, and I’d say that is proportionally correct. The “gala” welcome banquet was a buffet line featuring deviled eggs served on paper plates. Of course, the Pacific Ocean is huge, fabulous and free.

I had an informative meeting with an editor from Fuse Literary, who had detailed comments on a chapter I had submitted. The comments address “polishing,” nothing structural or characterological. He said he liked the chapter, but apparently not well enough to ask for a full. However, he suggested that when it’s “polished up,” I send it to his colleague who handles mystery, and I could use his name. That counts as an invitation to submit.  So, small victory there. I take ‘em where I can get ‘em.

When I do go back to that detective novel, I’ll fix it up and send it to my current agent, who is a sci-fi guy, but you never know. Today that same chapter gets workshopped in the master class, so I should get further perspective on it. Meanwhile, my androids are languishing. I just cannot get enough time or head-space to get back to them. They should be aware that I think about them every day. Maybe they’ll have surprising things to say when I get back.