The 2004 Convention: In My Words

How is it possible for a person like myself; an average guy, to have had his life changed three years in a row by a simple event that lasts only four days? This event that I am writing about is for a website for writers and readers. Many of these people are just as ordinary as I am but we are brought together by the same dreams, desires and inspirations; to be a writer.

The first Writing.Com convention was held in Baltimore, Maryland. It was the first time that we met as more than usernames and handles. We were able to match faces with online personalities; some friendships were created while others were strengthened. The heartfelt hugs eventually turned into the tears of friendship and love.

Writing.Com’s second convention was held in King of Prussia, Pennsylvania. This gathering brought more of the members into Writing.Com’s patented circle of hugs. The interactions of friends and writers was an awesome experience but we were to be out done by the The StoryMaster and The StoryMistress . The Story Master took the stage as a magician who stole the heart of the Story Mistress with his magical question, “Will you marry me?” The people in the audience, with teary eyes and flashing cameras, soon approached the stage to offer their congratulations. Our little writing world was now the most loving spot in this galaxy.

For the third Writing.Com convention I knew it would be another special weekend. This experience started like the other two conventions, I spent hours upon hours walking a hole in my carpet because my ride was late; I even doubted that I was actually going to be able to go. Then ~j arrived and we loaded my things into her car and we were off. A few detours later we arrived at the Gateway Convention Center in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. In the parking lot we met up with master_akura and a nameless convention goers. The first person who officially gave me a hug was Melissa is fashionably late! and Diane . My tears of joy began to flow immediately afterwards. I ran to my room, dropped my things off, and rushed back to the lounge to meet the other conventioneers. This meeting was a little different because the usual greeting of “Moo” was not immediately heard. This room was mainly filled with newbies to the convention. I did, however, get my hugs from catwoman , The StoryMistress and The StoryMaster .

The third annual convention was off and running and I was already having a great time. Besides registration our first planned activity was the Welcome Dinner where, besides eating, we started our first Creative Session where we wrote campfires to musical genres provided to us by the deejay. It was a lot of fun with the music playing as we wrote and laughed at our entries. Then after the food was cleared away, the room was darkened and several people were volunteered to get up on the stage to do a “Live” campfire. I was one of the lucky ones and the six of us weaved quite the tale. There were two live campfires this night and I hope this will be a constant feature from now on. These moments, on a darkened stage with microphone and flashlight, are a great icebreaker and they also let people know that this weekend is all about having fun.

The next morning brought tired, smiling faces to the Lincoln room for a light breakfast and some arousing conversations. This early hour, 9am separated the “Morning People” from the Night Owls. My table of writers was probably a little more livelier than most because I sat with most of the Pookies which included phil1861, Melissa is fashionably late! , ~j , and Diane , who made quite a few comments that made us all laugh and wonder what kind of a person she really is.

Breakfast ended and we went from eating to writing in the Jefferson room. We spent a few more hours working on Creative Sessions. Laughter and dangling participles circled the room like fireworks on a Fourth of July night. There were no musical prompts but we did have an opening sentence, word and picture prompts before it was all over. They were so much fun that people talked about their campfires the rest of the weekend.

These creative sessions also gave an opportunity for Fireant and pita to put their evil Bovine Bessie cow-napping plan to work. They grabbed my beloved cow off of my table only to give her back to me later that night with a purple bandana on her neck. I knew they wouldn’t harm my bovine but still I worried about her the whole time they had her.

Between the Creative Sessions and Dinner we had some time to kill. Some of us went to take a nap but I went with Wannabe , Stormy Lady and Laurencia to the Lehigh Valley Mall where I spent most of my money set aside for the Creative Auction on cows for my collection, including the cow that will, from now on, be used as Bessie at the Writing.Com Conventions. I was able to make her myself plus pick out a nice overall outfit for my darling bovine. She was a big hit with all of the conventioneers and some of the other hotel guests and staff.

Later that evening, after lunch, snack and a dinner, we were allowed to show off some of our other talents. Many of us got up on stage, looked into a blinding white light to perform our comedy routines, poetry readings or story time deliveries. There was no impromptu act from the Story Master this year, no heartfelt recital from the Story Mistress, but the night did not lack memorable moments.

Saturday morning brought more laughter and food to start the day. Today was the event that we all have been looking forward to. It was the Creative Auction, which will benefit some of us to attend the convention in the future year. All of the items, whether they were store bought or handmade, all included personal touches of its donator. pita and myself were presenters of the items as our The StoryMaster was the auctioneer.

The end of the auction brought some free time for us all. Since my auction item was to dress me up I waited impatiently for Diane to hand me my wardrobe. I was afraid of what kind of combination she’d have me wear. I did look stunning in the pink floral muumuu, the blue monkey slippers and the sombrero. My walk through the lounge and my posing as a confused stripper brought cheers and laughter from the peanut gallery. One nice Fireant even gave me a fashion tip; try not to wear dark under garments when wearing a light pink Muumuu. My cross-dressing days may not be over because I just might do it again next year, and I think I’ll work on my catwalk strut.

The formal dance was more like a Prom night for starving writers than it was a black tie affair. Seeing these same people, who only days before sported an array of colored briefcase icons, in suits, ties and fancy dresses was more than worth the price of admission. I’m not known for my dancing steps but I did manage to step onto the dance floor with some of the most beautiful woman at the convention. I danced into the night with Stormy Lady , Lexi Ashen Married John Ashen , elizm446, ShelleyA ~ 4000+ Reviews given and Diane . Not only did I not step on their feet, none of them remarked on how I made them dizzy.

During the Formal Night Dinner two of my newly made friends bestowed on me an honor to present the Story Master and Story Mistress with a t-shirt and a Thank You book that we all signed. It is such a rush to surprise these two people because they give so much of themselves to make sure we have a good time at the Writing.Com convention.

The end of the music didn’t end our fun for the night. Some of us retired to the patio to continue our conversations with the StoryMaster. Wannabe and archgargoyle were playing with chem. lights in-between Pennsylvania cloud bursts. The orange, green and red lights weren’t the fireworks of an Independence Day celebration but they still were met with oohs and ahhs.

One by one the conventioneers disappeared to their rooms for some rest. I watched as our twenty-four hour lounge emptied leaving only me with a book that I brought to read. Being more of a night owl in my everyday life and my desire to not miss any of the scheduled events took away my use or need of sleep. A look into my bloodshot blue eyes and how easily I was to laugh were the only side effects of my sleepless nights until I got home.

As Sunday morning was upon us I was still searching for that early morning riser. This was the saddest beginning of the four days of the convention. I watched as Melissa is fashionably late! packed up the remaining things into her suitcase while trying to hide her teary eyes. Diane , ~j , phil1861 and myself each grabbed our first good-bye hug of the convention as the five of us made our way to the last continental breakfast. We ate a breakfast of fruit, Danishes and swallowed teardrops. Our conversation tried to stay on the upbeat side of depressing. Before we knew it our plates were empty and it was time to say our first real good-bye of the convention. We escorted Mel to the hotel’s lobby to await the complimentary shuttle to whisk our friend away to the airport.

Saying good-bye to a friend is always hard, but saying so long to people you’ve grown so close to in a few personal contacts and thousands of emails, Instant Messages and reviews is even harder. With friends you know that you will see them again eventually, with on-line acquaintances you never know if this will be the last time you can hear their voice.

During the hours between breakfast and lunch we sat in the “Bar with No Name” and relayed to each other some of the most memorable moments of the convention, many of them I have already wrote about. Each person celebrated each of these moments differently. My most memorable moments are the times when I got to make a new friend with a hug and a greeting, “Hi, I’m the Milkman and it is so nice to finally meet you”.

There wasn’t a dry eye when our lunch was ready to be served. This was the last 120 minutes of a weekend of a lifetime; the last time to embrace a fellow writer, make a family tie or to tell a person how much they mean to you. Laughter was still the strolling musician, but the tears softened the sound of the tune. As more people gathered up their convention mementos and luggage the sound of silence was harder to fill.

Three years I’ve stood wrapping my empty arms around someone who has changed my life. Three years I’ve wiped the tears of love and joy out of my eyes with the palms of my hands. Three years I left a hotel with one eye looking back at the memories I made and the other eye is looking towards the days, weeks and months where I can continue the friendships I’ve made online. Each convention is just as special as the people I’ve met there.