It’s good to be home. I have my cats, my bed, my garden (if it ever stops raining), my privacy, and lots of quiet time to read and write. It’s everything I love. And yet, as exhausted as I am and as much as I need some quiet time to recover, I could have spent another week at the RT Convention. My liver might have made a break for it after another day or two, but the entire experience was more than I could have hoped for.

I went to the convention with three goals:

1. To increase awareness of the Elements series and get a few more people interested in checking it out.

2. To meet some industry people and hear directly what my options are in terms of getting an agent with a pre-published series.

3. To get away from my quiet mountain town and spend some time with genre readers and writers, since right now the only writers I know all live in my computer.

Well, it’s difficult to judge the success of the first one just yet. The book made it into a few curious hands, and now it’s a matter of waiting to see how long it takes to make it to the top of their to-read pile and whether it turns out to be their cup of tea. Fingers are crossed, of course, along with a few toes.

The industry meetings were a bit more fruitful, though they did confirm what I already suspected: though not impossible, it’s difficult to find representation for a published series that isn’t exactly burning up the bestseller charts. This just told me that, as much as I love the Elements world (and have a Seriously Cool plan for book 3), all my focus right now needs to be on finishing the first book in the 2nd world fantasy series I’ve been poking at for a few months now, which keeps being pushed to the side by various life events and by the need to publish and market Shifting Selves. But today I went back and read the first chapter again and remembered why I was so excited about this series. It’s time to bring this story fully to life and see where it takes me.

As for the third… well, damn. That’s really all there is to say. This was more than I could have ever hoped for. I met so many amazing, generous people–readers and writers, published and aspiring, bestsellers and struggling indies–and everyone was just fucking awesome. I know, I should probably try to say that in a more polished way, but that wouldn’t be the truth. This world, this convention, was full of people who were just fucking awesome from start to finish.

I hadn’t realized how much I needed this world until I was immersed in it. No one appeared to judge me for publishing with an indie press. No one seemed to care what my sales figures were (well, other than the agents, but I think they can be forgiven for that). No one asked me to explain what urban fantasy is, or why I choose to write it, or whether there should be romance in the series. I was in a magical land where everyone read and loved genre fiction, happily discussed hot sex scenes in their favorite books with no shame, and freely swapped swag and books and publishing knowledge. The only criteria for entry into this club was that you love books and that you don’t judge the books others love. And that level of inclusion, of camaraderie and acceptance, was damn hard to leave behind, even with my cozy home waiting for me.

I came back certain of two things. First, I am a writer, and it’s time to decrease the time spent on promotion and marketing and get back to the best part of the job: putting words on the page.

Second, I’ll be in New Orleans for RT14. After all, it’s a year away. My liver will likely have recovered by then.