An Ode to the Writer’s Conference

Before long, I will be heading out on an epic journey across the country. Okay, so it’s really only across the state of Colorado, but with two young kids fighting in the back seat, it might as well be a trip to the moon. Anyway, I am heading to a writer’s conference in Colorado Springs. For those of you unfamiliar with the world of writing, there will be lots of workshops on writing, publishing, and everything in between. I will also be able to meet with at least one literary agent and pitch my novel directly to her. I’m excited, but also terribly nervous. I used to be great at public speaking, but it isn’t something I’ve had a lot of practice with since . . . high school? Anyway, the impending conference inspired me to write a poem. So here it goes:

The Night Before the Conference

‘Twas the night before the conference
And all through the house,
The only sounds were the clicking
Of my keyboard and mouse.

I should have been nestled
All snug in my bed,
While dreams of landing an agent
Danced in my head.

My husband was sacked out,
His snores deafening.
I slipped out of bed
To check one last thing.

Was my manuscript finished?
My editing done.
Was my storyline good enough
To sell to someone?

I practiced my pitch
Without missing a beat.
Would it be good enough
The avoid the taste of defeat?

I reread my first chapter.
Questioning every word choice.
Were my characters likeable?
Did I have a strong voice?

Then from my desktop
There arose such a clatter.
I sprang from my desk chair
To see what was the matter.

My computer was smoking
With a dreadful screeching sound
Akin to hundreds of demons
Dragging rusty chains on the ground.

I clicked my mouse swiftly,
Willing my work to be saved.
But my screen went as dark 
As the mouth of a cave.

I screamed and I cussed,
Threw the mouse at the wall.
Had I backed everything up?
Or had I just lost it all?

I wanted to cry.
There was nothing left I could do.
All those years worth of work
Had just went kaboom.

I awoke with a start
My head on the desk.
A puddle of drool
Wrapping around the A and the S.

My mouse cursor was blinking.
My manuscript was right there.
A tear ran down my cheek,
The only remnant of my scare.

I quickly emailed the file
To myself and ten friends
In an effort to avoid 
Having that scare again.

Then I climbed up the stairs,
And shut off the light.
Happy conference to all
I hope your pitch goes just right.


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