I’ve always called myself a storyteller ahead of an author, or even a writer. Simply put, I’ve always had stories to tell, and I’ve used a verity of different mediums to express them. From clay, to drawling’s, photography, to words, I’ve been seeking the right format to express what’s been loose inside my head for the last 20-odd years, never realizing that the cracks that appeared in my youth in the form of strange little stories would be the beginning of a door that would swing open and engulf my life. And a constant companion to my stories, the fuel to the magic has always been daydreams.
When I was fifteen, I vowed that before I turned 30, I would go to Australia. A sizeable daydream I never expected to fulfill, in line with having the gumption to write a book, but this summer In June I visited Australia for two weeks, July I celebrated my 30th Birthday, and then in August I attended the 2016 Writer’s Digest Writing Conference, a completed novel under my belt ready to be pitched to agents.
In some ways, going to Australia was on the same plane as going to the Writer’s Conference. As akin to most adventures I set out on, I went at it with a colorful, if not romanticized idea of what to expect, and was delivered in spite of myself a very different reality. Australia, for all its vastness, and the allure of its distance, was strikingly similar to the world I left behind. Emerging from beneath the streets of Melbourne’s South River I could have sworn I stepped foot into Manhattan, with its towering skyscrapers and taxi’s swizzing by. The same could be said of Sydney, and its near uniform identity to most other cities I’ve visited in the world.
I was shuffled along at the seclude of others, seeing one preplanned sight after another, soaking up the history of a country I knew little about. It wasn’t until I reached the Red Center of Australia’s Outback that I glimpsed, beyond the narrow scope of my tourist perspective, what I had come for, or, so I thought.
The same could be said for the Writing Conference. I went with a limited view of mind, essentially for the chance to speak one-on-one with agents and publishers.
It wasn’t until I immersed myself in the surroundings, and got past the stage of excitement, and fear, that the true value of the conference set in. Not since college have I been around so many like-minded people, teeming together with a similar goal. Unlike college, whether last I remember, there was an air of competitiveness to most endeavors, the conference fostered a sense of safety, as we day-dreamers converged in a hollowed space to let down our defenses and bare for what many have spent years crafting. There was an almost spiritual essence to the experience, created by the simple relenting of doubt, at least in the aspect of believing, for myself that I’d reached the point where I too could stand among my peers and offer up something worthy.
The Pitch Slam was at once a humbling moment, as well as a powerful learning experience, and I walked away with three requests and one referral. And as much as I appreciate the agents’ critic, and time, it was getting to talk with other writers, and learn from the panels that made it what it was.
Writing, by its nature is a solitary art. As someone who has identified as an introvert most of his life, writing gave me a platform in which to explore the world around, and within me, without exorcising the boundaries of my comfort zone. When I travel, I like to do so alone. The feeling of getting away from my home, exploring a new land, on my terms, at my pace appeals to me, but I realized through my trip to Australia, and my time at the Conference, that I could not have achieved what I have, nor can I move forward without others help.
It has only been in retrospect that I’ve been able to see the journey I’ve traveled has not been solely my own. From the help of my early readers and editors to the near preternatural patience of my family and friends, the novel I have, and the experiences I’ve amassed are as much their conquest as my own, and for all that, I have to admit, I’ve been one lucky daydreamer.
