Back from Mount Hermon

... and I'm exhausted. But happy. It was a terrific conference. The spirit of love and encouragement permeated the beautiful camp. And a whole lot of learnin' went on, I can tell you that. Gayle Roper, Randy Ingermanson, Jim Bell, Kathy Ide and I all taught fiction mentoring clinics in the morning. I had ten students. Then in the afternoon it was critique time for whoever wanted me to look at a manuscript, plus individual appointments with those who wanted some help. At lunch and dinner all faculty host tables. After dinner there's a nightly service. By the time dinner was over I'd be almost hoarse, especially the last night. It's a lot of talking.

I had a great group in my clinic. It will be interesting and very satisfying to see where they all are a year from now. The manuscripts ranged from fantasy to women's fiction, to romantic comedy, to suspense, to a supernatural angels-and-demons story. Good variation.

No, we did not have an Amish vampire novel among us. But with the bonnet stories being so hot these days, the idea did get tossed around amongst the published authors at the conference. In the end they decided they'd bit off more than they could chew.

I did not kill off anyone this year. However, Deb Raney and I traded a snake back and forth. That is a story for another day.

And don't feel sorry for her. She started it.

I roomed with Angie Hunt, who taught the fiction morning track. Who would ever have guessed that woman whistles constantly? When she wakes up, when she goes to sleep. I swear she whistles when she's brushing her teeth. By the time the conference was over--no, more like a day into it--I'd perfected my "Shut-up-yer-whistlin'!" glare. She'd just laugh at me. Angie's not one to be easily intimidated.

Okay. Let me get my head on straight for a day. Tomorrow we'll return to the "show, don't tell" rule. We really just skimmed the surface on that one last week.