“A writers’ conference? That’s a misnomer,” Kurt Vonnegut once said. “Since writers don’t confer. They just drag themselves past each other like great, wounded bears.”
Perhaps that’s the only method Kurt had for handling the gig. But a writers’ conference I attended two weeks ago in Nashville was in no way a drag. Not for me. I’ll admit, some authors did look a bit like bears, propelling their ursine bodies down carpeted aisles with a lumbering gait. However, they and most attendees appeared genuinely pleased to see each other and delighted to interact.
That tone was set by a charmer-in-chief, founder and impresario of the Killer Nashville International Writers Conference, one Clay Stafford. Trim, tall and dapper, Clay looked every inch the writing maven he encouraged every attendee to become. He launched his event with a warm and cordial address, and the dude held up for four full days of emcee chores without missing a beat, maintaining a cheerful tone throughout.
Bottle that force, and you could sell it. And in fact, that’s what our man proceeded to do. His recipe’s most active ingredient? A sense of community.
“Publishing truly is a small industry,” he informed us on opening night, at a gathering dubbed the ‘Shine ‘n’ Wine Shindig. “Getting to know people is just as important as how well you write… A lot of good manuscripts are out there that have not seen the light of day because the author just didn’t have the connections.”
CHASING DOWN SOME MISSING LINKS
The menu for this event looked jammed with potential connections of almost every relevant stripe. There were Master Class presentations on technique, coaching sessions, special presentations, panel discussions on an amazingly broad spectrum of topics, Agent/Editor Critiques, Agent Roundtables, a sprawling bookstore where book signings were performed by authors (some with prestigious bylines), keynote speakers and guest-of-honor interviews, networking breakfasts and ceremonial lunches and dinners.
Among our keynoters, motivational speaker Katherine Hutchinson-Hayes was a standout. She roused the crowd with classic Black preacher call-and-response methods. She cited stats that only .6% of people who plan to write a book ever finish and publish it, then asked all who had done so to please stand up. Most writers in the hall rose from their seats. “Congratulations!” she enthused. “You’re a roomful of One-Percenters!”
Hutchinson-Hayes ended by coaxing us to repeat a mantra, “You can and will unleash your voice. It’s up to you, it’s all your choice.”
Although he was a more low-key presenter, I also enjoyed guest-of-honor interviewee Kemper Donovan, a successful author and script doctor, as well as host of the popular podcast, “All About Agatha” (Christie, of course!).
Donovan’s main point was a need to protect that voice. “You should never feel like you’re compromising on something fundamental,” he said. “You should never feel like you have to write something that you don’t actually want to write.”
Given the scanty fiscal recompense most writers achieve per hour, this seems like rather sound advice. Why prostitute your innate talent for pennies? The most genuine and reliable payoff available is the chance to speak your truths. And if one doesn’t strive to offer the world something fresh and distinctive, then what is your product, really?
FIVE FROM COLUMN ‘A,’ TWO FROM COLUMN ‘B’
Part of my conference schedule I chose well in advance. But much of it I determined on-site and on the fly. I’m now into my fifth decade of professional scribbling for a living, so I don’t regard technique workshops as a crying need. Not that I refuse to learn anything fresh! But this ol’ dog already totes a bulging and weighty bag of tricks. Always could cram a skosh more inside, I suppose. However, rightly or wrongly, I feel I can afford to be casual about the process.
I reckoned this conference’s most precious option was the chance for actual face-time with working agents, so I signed up for as many ARTs (Agent Roundtables) as I could. These 45-minute sessions had four authors sitting at a literal round table, each getting two opening pages of a manuscript read aloud, then evaluated.
A finding from these sessions was a further iteration of my merry maxim, “Every piece of writing can always be improved.” Even if mere infinitesimal flaws are addressed, that can make an opening thrust more effective. Still, perfection is not only elusive, it’s also a judgment call. Readers (and agents) can react quite differently to the same passages. In general, these agents did like my stuff; that felt encouraging. But shall any of them choose to promote me in the future? To be determined. Stay tuned.
Agents have long been justly touted as influential gatekeepers for the publishing industry. That isn’t to say every one of them always possesses high influence, or that their collective influence is as mighty as it was, oh, say, 20 years back… Or last year… Or even that it shall prove effective a single year from today. The agent coven assembled in Nashville frankly admitted that our industry is in upheaval while our audience of ardent book readers seems in decline. Meantime, the curse/blessing of AI-generated text appears scarily ascendant.
All of us, agents and publishers included, shall be forced to make big guesses about how to ride upon such tides. And grand results for the best efforts of any of us shall be far from guaranteed—and should not be taken for granted. Perhaps that’s why I saw so many coins tossed into the hotel’s fountain, as if its waters were a deep wishing well.
Nevertheless, I was impressed by how friendly, courteous and welcoming all the agents at this conference appeared. Even if at times material presented to them seemed a bit on the dreadful side—which some certainly was—the agents praised whatever they could, while tactfully if frankly suggesting some points for improvement. Considering that they performed this chore for hours on end at the event, and for years on end in their jobs, they demonstrated a near-superhuman level of patience and generosity.
My other event choices made in advance were to serve as moderator on two discussion panels; these also proved informative as well as terrific fun.
TIME MANAGEMENT, AND CHARACTER ARCS
My first panel, “Time Management for Writers,” passed in a total blur… Since I kept myself focused on ensuring that each panelist enjoyed adequate opportunities to speak.
Our attendance was modest, yet all responses were positive. My own principal point: If you never stop writing, then you don’t need to worry about when or how to start. (The key trick here is to always, always, always carry a notebook.) And second: digital devices give one a chance to dive into manuscripts at any spare moment—as though you had plucked a rogue volume off a bookstore shelf and riffled through its pages, wondering if you ought to buy it. This gives a writer a sublime chance to improve a word-choice, a single sentence or a paragraph, even if all you have is 5-10 minutes whilst awaiting a cab, a bus, a train, or a tardy friend.
To finish up, I passed around artisanal chocolate-chip cookies. “Treat your ego like a beloved pet,” I told them. “Reward yourself for getting absolutely anything done.”
My “Building Character Arcs” panel two days later was far more crowded, as well as memorable to me for its principal theme: every single panelist agreed that the key here was not imposing a plot on your characters, but using the storyline to have your characters strive to impose themselves on the plot—whether they end up successful at such a high-risk maneuver, or not. Truly attractive storytelling requires a bold, character-centric style.
DOWN TIME CAN BE UP TIME
Initially, I thought I’d attend a lot more panels during the periods when I myself was not presenting. But that assumption was proven incorrect. Instead, consistently, I found myself in flight to my room to light up the laptop and type away on a new novel manuscript.
As for interacting with my fellow attendees, I found that casual conversations around the conference dining tables and at the hotel bar seemed to suffice. I’d walk up to a group with a hand thrust out and say, “I’m always willing to meet new people,” which I’d then proceed to do. Other writers were more than happy to discuss their careening careers and their works. Sometimes, they even seemed mildly curious about mine… (lil’ joke, there).
It was too hot and humid to spend much of a day outdoors, but I took a few walks in the coolth of early morning, which gave me a chance to appreciate those rolling, verdant hills of Tennessee, “greenest state in the land of the free.” But indoors wasn’t bad, either. Our conference was held in the Embassy Suites—Hilton of Cool Springs, a suburb of Franklin, a burg a half-hour cab ride south on I-65 from downtown Nashville and BNA International.
There were a few inevitable flaws, such as lightbulbs out in my room, some stretches of stinky carpet, and a toilet paper holder yanked sideways as if Elvis had seized it in a last, dying paroxysm. But I was positively impressed by the cadre of black-clad staffers of all races and ethnicities who sprang into action to engineer set-ups and tear-downs at all events, and could serve hundreds of well-prepared meals of chicken, beef and even broiled salmon in a timely manner. We enjoyed a preternaturally gregarious bartender too, a guy who could dispense drinks and jokes with the poise and productivity of a multi-armed Hindu god.
Their performances put me in mind of the current fraught situation of the immigrant workforce in the USA, and the dangers they currently face. As well as the words of Clay Stafford in his welcoming letter. “In the past twenty years, there has been a proliferation of lies, hate, discrimination, oppression, division, misrepresentation, extremism, and censorship as I have never seen before.” (Good use of the Oxford comma, there, Clay.) “These forces seek to silence truth and fracture communities, but at Killer Nashville, we stand in defiance.”
THE SIRENS OF FIFTH AND MISSION
I suppose it would be rather poor form to sign off on this newsletter without giving our illustrious fellow scribe Kurt Vonnegut a bit more of his well-earned due. Vonnegut was not the total grump I made him out to be at the start of this piece. In fact, I’m sure his quote about writers’ conferences was both sardonic and humorous.
I actually met the man himself, once. Well, I mean, I almost met him. I saw him standing by himself in the main lobby of The San Francisco Chronicle, where I was a reporter. The author was dressed exactly the way he appears in many a photo, clad in a rumpled tweed blazer with a sweater vest underneath, a wild hairdo of bouffant brown curls nodding atop his head, and quite large and reflective glasses half-shielding his eyes. He also wore a befuddled expression—somewhat lost but entirely in earnest, while he sought to figure out what direction he ought to head in next.
For some reason, I felt it wrong to intrude on this meditation. Thus, I failed to introduce myself or even thank him for his many great books. I simply nodded at him, he vaguely acknowledged me, then I hopped on an elevator to go upstairs and return to my work. Still, whenever I think of Vonnegut now, that’s the image that floats before my mind’s eye: a tall, disheveled figure, self-possessed yet utterly adrift.
And here’s a different kind of quote from him. “A purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved.”
And, y’know, that Killer Nashville 2025 Writers’ Conference I recently attended? It did seem to achieve a sizable amount of that particular desideratum. In fact, good ol’ Kurt himself might’ve departed wearing a grin.
