It’s three months away, so I’m packing.

That sounds prepared, but it’s mostly a way of dealing with the anxiety of the unknown. Plus, if I wait until a day or so before I leave, I will throw things into a suitcase in a panic, taking about three times as much clothing as I would wear. I won’t keep these clothes in the suitcase for the next few months, but I am trying to see how little I can fit in and still leave room for books.

Seems simple enough: pack some business-like attire, a nice jacket, work pants. Something casual: a nice overlarge t-shirt for lounging about in. Sweats: because I damn well am going to exercise while I’m there. Comfortable shoes and a sweater (I always freeze in air-conditioned hotels.).

I am also trying to prepare by reading up on people’s blogs. It looks like a party where all the other people know each other beforehand. I am afraid that I will stick out as a friendless loner. I am afraid that my writing isn’t good enough yet for me to try pretending that I’m a pro. Can you claim to be a professional writer if you haven’t sold anything yet?

Well yes, you can. I’ve lived in this body long enough to know that there will always be that small voice in the back of my mind telling me that I’m not good enough yet to submit my work, not good enough to play with the big kids. I don’t think I will ever be good enough to please that little voice. I do think that I have to try polishing my work until I can’t see how to improve it any more, and then send it out into the world.