A lot of my writing friends are at the RWA National Conference this week. I've gone to 4 or 5 of these, and have to say: I am SO glad I'm not there.
It's noisy. It's busy. It's exhausting. It's one thing after another. A lot of people come home feeling energized. I always felt drained when I got back. I think I'll try it again in a few years, but I'm not in a rush to do it soon.
A large part of my ambivalent feelings is how I'm treated there. I'm not a 'real' published author to them even though I have 11 books out and contracts for 9 more. Yep, because I publish with a small press, I'm not considered career-minded. Don't bother telling me why that's silly: we all know why.
So I'm happily not traveling this week and while I wish I could be with my friends who are out in D.C., I'm busy making progress on my latest novel, which I believe I'll see published in 2012 -- that's how far out I have contracts. Maybe someday I'll be considered published by Those Who Think They Know. For now, I know I am.