Alison Kent's Blah Blog

About the RWA conference, Diana says:

And then, of course, are the detractors. Alison Kent shares again her opinion about the value of the RWA conference, and RWA altogether, and of course, quotes from the always-contrary PBW about how useless the whole endeavor is. Previously, Kent had argued against former RWA prez Shirley Hailstock’s scolding letter in the RWR admonishing conference crashers. Despite the fact that I thought the “scolding” was kind of childish (leaving the chicken-and-the-egg argument about the increasingly unprofessional behavior of RWA members and the PTB responses to same), I agree with the sentiment. Universalize the action and there IS no RWA conference, no speakers, no workshops, no agents and editors coming — because there are no attendees, just thousands of gate crashers and freeloaders.

I’m not sure I understand being called a detractor. My comments about the conference (and about RWA as a professional organization) have clearly made the demarcation between benefits obtained by those newly published, those long time published, and those not – and all of it on an individual basis.

Most of the people referred to here as freeloaders are published authors who are giving the organization a big splat of cash for the privilege of seeing their own editors and agents and attending their own publishers’ parties and getting little in return except that chance. Unless that is exactly what we’re doing – paying the organization for the chance to spend time with like minds – networking . . . socializing . . . partying. I’m sorry, but as much as I love my friends? I want more bang for my buck than that.

The break on the fee for giving a workshop is not worth mentioning, yet without published authors how many workshops would there be? There would be no literacy signing without published authors to sign, yet we can’t sign (meaning we can’t contribute to the literacy fund) unless we pony up the registration fee. Diana is right about one thing. If there were no published authors paying to attend, there would be no conference. No signing. Few workshops. Something to think about, isn’t it?

Most published authors I know don’t attend but a handful of workshops – and usually those are the ones given by friends, editors and agents and it’s a show of support – nothing more. Yet there is no break on cost, no separate tier for those attending who don’t plan to 1) eat the meals or 2) attend the workshops. Why isn’t there? Why can’t there be a nominal fee to cover . . . whatever of the organization’s resources we supposedly use while we’re there? I don’t buy into paying a full conference fee just because RWA has brought the whole thing together and I’m there to see friends. I’ll pay for what I use, sure. Give me a dollar amount that reflects that. Yes, I understand so much meeting space has to be booked and so many meals ordered, etc., but what if I’m not using the meeting space or eating the meals? What then?

Yes, I enjoy seeing friends in person. But since I don’t swing in a big social circle and am pretty much a writing hermit, I’m not one to hang out in a hotel bar. I don’t drink. After spending 18 years married to an alcoholic, one’s viewpoint on alcohol is rather tainted, and it’s a situation I avoid. This year, I am definitely missing a fabulous wedding of a very dear friend, but beyond that, I prefer to vacation with my family and keep up with my writing buddies in cyberspace – where I have actually made more friends than I ever did in person! (This is what happens when you write in a closet, you know!)

Yes, this is MY opinion – one based on attending RWA in New Orleans and Chicago as an unpublished author, and in St. Louis, Dallas, Orlando, Chicago, DC, and Denver as a published author. This is MY blog where I share my opinion. If my opinion reeks of increasingly unprofessional behavior, then get back to me once you’ve walked in my shoes for the same thirteen years as a published author and experienced the ups and downs of industry changes and career upheavals.

I was a brand new author once. I couldn’t wait for conference each year. I’ve been there. I’ve done that. I understand the enthusiasm. But I’ve grown since then. I’ve been through battles many new authors have yet to face. Until I resigned this summer, I had been a member of RWA for fifteen years. And because of that, I no longer find a benefit in putting out $2000 for a conference.

Obviously, YMMV.