Outsourcing

I have a peculiar form of social anxiety that really only rears its head in very specific scenarios: writer's conferences. One-on-one I’m fine, in groups of people I know I’m fine—but put me in a room full of strangers and ask me to schmooze and talk about my writing and, as previously documented, I fall apart. So when it comes to conferences, I need a companion like my friend Davis. Witty, wealthy, and wickedly good looking, he’s got the "fabulous trifecta" covered. See, I can keep up with fabulous, but I can’t generate it on my own. We all have our weaknesses.

So, when I decided to sign up for the SCBWI conference I went straight to Davis and coerced him into signing up. Lest you think I lack self-esteem, let me publicly announce and fully embrace my great coercion skills. I’m good even when I talk someone into something just for the sport of it, but when my performance at a writing conference depends on coercion, watch out.

So he had to come all the way from London, he had to take time off work, and he’d never heard of SCBWI, but Davis actually does have an amazing YA sci-fi in the works and has always wanted to become a published author. So really, it’s a win-win, no?

We met this morning for breakfast to discuss our plan of action. I agreed to do all the research on the editors, agents, and writers going to the conference and he agreed to be the life of the party. When I mentioned that the ultimate scenario would be to have a high-powered editor fall in love with him over the course of the four-day event, he shrugged as if it were in the bag. I love Davis. For the first four days of August I will be his auxiliary brain and he will be my auxiliary fabulousness.

Symbiosis: not just for clownfish and sea anemones any more!