I recently attended the RomCon in Denver. The cost of travelling, accommodations, registration, food reached to nearly $2,500. Was it worth it?

So far, I’d have to say in monetary return – no. That is, unless the connections I made translates into a sudden burst of sales at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Not likely.

In terms of a useful experience, maybe. The speakers ranged from terrible to great. The organization of the event could have been better. The accommodation was poor (I froze in some of the lecture rooms and my room flooded from a leak in the ceiling, etc.) Did I have fun? I’ll explain later. Did I learn anything? Not as much as I hoped.

What was good:

1. I met some amazing authors
   • Barbara Vey, http://barbaravey.com/aboutbarbara/
   • Cherry Adair, http://cherryadair.com/
   • Rebecca Grace, http://www.rebeccagrace.com/index.html
   • Jennifer Zane, http://jenniferzane.com/  http://jenniferzane.com/cover-design/
   • Marsha West, http://www.marsharwest.com/
   • Debra Holland, http://drdebraholland.com/
2. Excellent presentations on character development, plot workshop, cover design workshop, the value of independent publishing, and writing sex scenes.
3. Entertainment: My favorite event was the Mimosa Madness. Authors participated in a social event wherein participants had to complete a bingo-like card. The fun in finding the author to match the description on the card made way for a crazy and zany hour of getting to know everyone. The prizes were terrific. And the mimosa, yummy!
4. Facility (Crown Plaza Airport): food was tasty and served quickly

What could have been better:

1. Speakers should stay on topic(some speakers strayed off topic half the time)
2. Speakers should allow time for questions
3. Audio / visual equipment in working order
4. Sound system improvement (echos distract and make comprehension difficult)
5. Ensure lecture room temperatures are comfortable
6. Improve registration – ensure registrants are greeted upon arrival and understand procedures (I arrived Thursday early evening but no one had info or handouts; the next morning the registration felt chaotic)
7. The book signing event could have been two evenings instead of one short event.

One of my favorite memories:

I met Kasi and Jerrie Alexander, fellow authors published by Omnific Publishing

The worst:

My main goal was to gain insight into marketing techniques. Lo and behold, that was the worst lecture. The author talked about her experience with online dating service. I waited for the real meat and potatoes on marketing. It never came. Ugh!

The second biggest disappointment was attending the “Birds of a Feather Reader Chat & Book Giveaway.” When I entered the room and discovered piles of books on each chair, I felt overwhelmed with the generosity. This event was led by a rep from the Book Reading Gals. Casual is good but being sloppily dressed in front of your guests is an insult. After a USA chant (not being American, I felt out of place, again), the rep began to mention book titles and author names. Her favorite expression was ‘OMG’ or ‘Oh my God,’ but I don’t recall hearing why any of the books rated the ‘OMG’. This went on for the entire hour as she strutted within the circle of attendees. The attendees were mature people and deserved more than ‘OMG.’

Did I have fun? I did until the insult.

During an event someone pointed to me and told the room full of people that I was from Canada. She turned her back to me, then made a statement ending in ‘eh.’ Everyone thought it was humorous, except me. Until that point I felt just one of the many people enjoying the day. After that, I felt like an outsider and disrespected.

I’m attending one more writer’s convention this year. It’s the When Words Collide in Calgary, Alberta, August 8-10. The cost will be small as it’s only a short drive from home and a bunch of us authors are sharing the cost. Finger crossed this event will prove to be worth it.Life of a Writer

The Confessional

My little boudoir held magical powers at times, it seemed to draw out gentlemen’s innermost secrets. Much like your local hairdresser or bartender, clients feel that they are in a place where they won’t be judged. The only difference here is that all secrets are told post coital and completely naked, thus all vulnerability and bullshit are stripped away. Oh, the things I have been told……. I’m secretly stealing money from the bank in which I work, apart from my wife I keep a boyfriend in a unit up the the road for the last 16 years. Some secrets I almost felt compelled to report; once a sitting judge told me that he had been dabbling with drugs to make the day more interesting. Stealing, cheating on their wives, insider trading, money laundering and drugs were the most common theme from these white collar criminals. A day didn’t go by that I wasn’t offered free drugs “to enhance our time together”. Darling I’m not here to ‘enjoy’ I’m here to pay off my latest mortgage, pay Poppies school fees, just live basically. Those words recited like a mantra in my head, never spoken out loud unless someone became persistent in their request. Why tell me? Because trust me I would rather not know. The thinking was that they would find a kindred spirit in me a simpatico with me, as I was in their minds living on the edge of legal and on the corner of ‘gangsta’. Nothing could be further from the truth, in my entire career I had never touched drugs. I established long ago in my teen years that drugs made me lose control, and life was far too arduous to go through it stoned. I had been violated too many times stone cold sober, if I had to navigate this life alone I would need my wits about me, so drugs were a fog haze that I did not need, and seemed to offer no benefit. Drugs contradicted everything my life represented, my life was about financial independence, drugs seemed to drain it’s victims of their financial means. My life was about raising Poppy to be the best adult she could become. My mum had already threatened to strip her of me once so I was not going to give her one scintilla of reason to have another crack at custody. So for many a good reason I never touched drugs. But that is not to say I didn’t take advantage of these sweetly whispered stock market tips that my naughty clients were telling me about. One year I made over 50K just in stock market investments. Over the years the figure would be close to three hundred thousand. But never once did I ever tell a client that I had taken advantage of his secret whispers, or drunken ranting’s. I will never be beholden to a client. I would be crazy not to take advantage of their illegality. Butchers would bring me forty kilogram boxes of frozen product, jewellers would slip me a couple of piece that they claim weren’t selling anyway, and chemists would bring makeup and perfumes, even dumomine if I asked. The list goes on infinitim. Poppy was always curious “mum why do you need 40 kilos of meat?” “It was a gift darling”. She was and is the most observant person I know, you can’t wear a new pair of knickers without her keen eye observing. She couldn’t understand why a single women got so many gifts from so many different sources with no apparent boyfriend that she ever met. “Oh Darling they are work gifts”. She is the queen of questions, and never bores of boring down on any topic. She has always had a nose for virtue, she can sniff out suspect from a mile away. Here lies the irony of a sex-workers life; we work on the edge of legal, on the border of moral (to some) yet to our children we need to represent paragons of virtue, honesty and morality. Some days you feel like Sybil with her multiple personalities. Naughty, raunchy, sexy, hedonistic, but come five pm you are virtuous, humble, patient, stern at times but above all loving. Because I was soo young when I had Poppy, we were almost growing up together. She viewed me as the coolest mum on the block (I was the youngest mum in her entire school so that obviously played a part in her assessment). “Cool” can mean so many things but it did not mean that I was in anyway disrespectful of the police and the laws in front of Poppy.

While I may not agree with them all I maintained a healthy respect of the police for her sake. So it was when Poppy came home escorted by two officers in full uniform, she was about ten at the time. “We are bring your daughter home to collect her helmet, she cannot ride the streets without one, it is dangerous and against the law”. “Poppy you have a helmet why aren’t you wearing it?” “I’m very sorry officers, please give her the $25 fine, and I will see to it that she pays”. They looked at me blankly, I can’t be bothered with the paperwork seemed to radiate from their foreheads. “Look we are going to knock this up to a first offence and a written warning”. But I needed Poppy to learn early that there are consequences to her actions and that if she was going to wander about publicly protesting her disapproval for the laws, she would have to pay the price. So that Saturday I dropped her at the local police station with a bucket, a sponge and a car cleaning kit. She spent three hours there cleaning all the police cars. But more importantly she never again rode without a helmet.

The police knew who I was, I was allowed to work from my own home privately, I was not allowed to have any children living there. So as long as I worked quietly and didn’t draw to much unnecessary attention to myself I was ignored by the constabulary. It was funny the neighbours were completely at a loss as to what I was up to. Everyone in our private little street worked 9 – 5 so no one noticed the march of penguins to my door every day. The endless car park of Audis and other imported cars lining the street. They just knew the weekend neighbour, the after five Annika, the mother Anniika. No one ever met Cleo, and no one ever would believe it. That’s if you are doing your job right.

http://annikacleeve.com/2013/11/your-bedroom-is-a-confessional/