If a news reporter stopped by the Chicago North's Spring Fling this weekend, this might be what they could report ...
'Today we are at a writer's conference, in the northern suburbs of the Windy City, Chicago Illinois. We're standing in the hallways of the Hyatt Conference Center as attendees mingle about. Most are women, dressed in casual yet professional attire and all seem to know one another. At least they are smiling and chatting with one another. All looks well. Coffee and fruit is in abundance as well as donuts! Interesting choice, something for everybody.
'The crowd is dispursing, the conference is about to begin. Most have entered a large room where the speaker is a New York Times Best Selling Author, Cherry Adair. Excitement fills the room. Introductions are being made, this woman must be a hundred years old to have accomplished so much in a lifetime. But no, she's before the platform, not looking old, but stylish and friendly. She has everyone's attention with her easy manner. Attendees are laughing and taking notes, enjoying the talk. This is not your typical boring conference. Something is happening here.
'Oh, wait, someone is leaving! How could they leave now when things are going so well? Let's follow her.
'She's just emerged from the ladies room. Perhaps we've misjudged her need to escape. Her breathing seems irratic. Now she's digging through her bag. She extracts a mint. Perhaps that will calm her. She's walking now, slower, as if she's contemplating something. She has a small card in her hand and nodding as she reads it, still walking. Where's she going? The ballroom is the other direction. She can't leave now. She'll miss out on this wonderful experience.
'She's stopped at a table where another woman is waiting for her. They exchange pleasantries. We'll have to move closer to hear the actual conversation. But we'll move cautiously so as not to scare her more. She's pacing now, something is obviously bothering her. Time seems to hang in suspension.
'The door behind the table opens. Another young woman slips out, smiling, beaming actually. She smiles at the nervous woman. "Don't worry, she's really nice and easy to talk to. She asked for the first ten pages of my manuscript."
'The two women hug. One leaves, the other waits to be chauffeured inside. Who's in there? What is so exciting about ten pages of a manuscript? Let's see, if we peek at the sign on the door, we might determine what's going on. Oh, it's for everyone to see, no need for espionage. The sign reads: Pitch Sessions with Diana Fox, of Fox Literary Agency.
The moderator motions to the nervous woman, but wait, she's not nearly as nervous as she was a moment ago. What happened? The moderator smiles and the not nervous woman steps across the threshhold and into the room. A voice calls, "hello, come on in. Nice to meet you." The door closes.
We don't know how long this woman will be behind that door, but approaching us is another woman who appears to have swallowed a jumping bean. She sits at a nearby chair, tapping her heels againt the carpeted floor. The door opens again.
Everyone turns. The woman is smiling, shyly, and winks at the woman waiting.
"She's great. You'll like her. She gave me the best ideas." The woman walks away, back toward the ballroom. A nervous giggle escapes from the one still sitting. Her legs are crossed now and a twinkle has settled in her eyes. She's going to be okay, the jumping bean has dissolved. The moderator is motioning to her and with a deep breath and an excited smile the woman joins her at the door.
'Whatever is happening here is contagious. It's like a wildfire, jumping from person to person to person. We'll keep you posted on further developments, but for now, we're heading back to the ballroom and Cherry Adair.'
Til next time ~