Volunteering at the writer’s conference in Portland was rewarding today. I recommend it for anyone wanting to go to a conference and meet lots of people.
Today, I sat in a couple of workshops and helped out where needed. It was a lot of showing people where things were. This made sense to me as it was the first day.
The hotel staff was helpful and took my filthy plate without me even knowing it. I said something to someone, and then I sipped my water and the plate was gone, as if by magic. I wished I lived there…then they could take my plates and do my dishes. I would pour over revisions, or stare into oblivion in hopes of a nugget to add to my tale…my used napkins and dirty dishes would just disappear and I would give it no notice. Except, perhaps to ponder the plight of the poor souls unlucky enough to take my dishes.
Maybe I would go ‘down’ there, and find them slaving away on all my dirty dishes and silverware…and I would interview them. My story, an expose on exploited workers…except they would all smile and say that they were happy to do it, they wouldn’t want ot be doing anything else, they would say. Then I would ask some hard line, slanted question to get the answers I was looking for. They would just keep smiling and repeating what I said before.
Then the headline:
ELVES CHAINED IN WRITER’S BASEMENT – Their plight crystal clear even behind Stepford Wife-like smiles!
Oh, but I digress…
I enjoyed the conference. Tomorrow I may even do it again.