Jamie Wilson is back with another in her series about tradpub and what they are doing and not doing…

My first literary convention was in Evanston, Ind. A man I admired (and would one day marry) convinced me to come along with him and some friends. The guest of honor was Gary Gygax, the creator of the original Dungeons and Dragons. I still remember the thrill of that drive, the butterflies as we checked in, wandering wide-eyed through the huckster’s room (today they blandly call it the vendor’s hall), wishing I had enough money to buy everything in sight. I sat in on writing workshops and geeky panels, rolled dice in pickup D&D games with strangers, and soaked in the wonder of being surrounded by people who loved the same things I loved.

It was intoxicating. And as I began building a writing career, the layers of what conventions could offer only deepened. Later, I graduated to more professional gatherings. One of my favorites was the 2012 Romance Writers of America convention in Orlando. My family went to Disney World while I immersed myself in the business of writing. I casually chatted with Nora Roberts in a hallway. I sat in on marketing workshops that explained the power of long-tail sales and the different types of romance heroes. I hobnobbed with publishers, editors, and agents. It was a world where professional craft and fannish joy overlapped, where anyone, from an aspiring writer to the most established professional, could feel at home.

That’s what conventions and professional organizations once were: the living, breathing community of writers. Places where the walls between readers, writers, and publishers came down. A place of discovery, career building, and fellowship.

And then, slowly, the drift began.

Full article, HERE from PJ Media.

Go read the whole thing, and she has links at the bottom to the earlier articles in the series.

And our little ‘local’ con, P-Con even gets a mention!!!

And what she’s been saying is true, which is why a lot of us have gone Indie and keep begging for you to share our books with your friends. We can’t afford the advertising budget to get our names out there, and we’re never up for any awards because we’re Indie…

What really counts for us is the Benjamins. They help us pay for our covers, editing, and other costs incurred publishing our books.