A Round Table of Writers

A Round Table of Writers

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of attending a social media session in Nashville hosted by River Jordan, author of The Gin Girl, The Messenger of Magnolia Street, Saints in Limbo, and her forthcoming novel, The Miracle of Mercy Land. Also at the event was JT Ellison, the bestselling author of the critically acclaimed Taylor Jackson series; Greg Daniel, the founder of the literary agency, Daniel Literary Group; one of Nashville’s top Twitterers, Matthew Paul Turner, who’s also the author of the non-fiction books, Churched: One Kid’s Journey Toward God Despite a Holy Mess, and Hear No Evil: My Story of Innocence, Music, and the Holy Ghost. There were others in attendance as well (10, to be exact) whose names I cannot recall but whose exuding confidence in their writing calling I cannot forget–even if I wanted to, and, at the time, I kind of wanted to.

For–among all this mature, literary genius–you had me who, just two days before, was said to resemble more of a junior higher than a semi-responsible, degree-toting 23-year-old. But it wasn’t this physical discrepancy that had me contemplating a mad dash for the door; I’m quite used to being petite (NOT short, people!)–I’m patted on the head like a puppy all the time; no, what had me writhing with inadequacy was the sense that I had no right to be there, seated at that Round Table of Writers (well, it was actually composed of four folding tables, but you get the picture) while they slung out social media jargon, and I nodded and smiled like a Vanna White bobble head.

It wasn’t always thus. When I attended such events before I was like a proud momma gushing about her child; if I had pictures of my novel all scrubbed, naked, and plopped in one of those tin washtubs, I would have gladly passed them around to the chagrin of every optically unchallenged person in the room. Now, after I came to the conclusion my novel had to die all I wanted was to keep it locked in a closet without food or water or sunlight. But I couldn’t: for one, my mother would really lock me in a closet without food or water if I did so. For two, the encouragement of my writing peers helped me understand that–although they were now mature, literary geniuses–they also had to start from the ground up. They too struggled with the quandary of to toss or not to toss the novel out with the rewriting bathwater.

Should Twitter and Facebook be viewed any differently than that Round Table of Writers? Instead of employing these avenues of communication as building blocks toward a platform or means of gaining clout (or Klout) in the writing community, we should use it to volley information back and forth; to offer support when projects fail; to celebrate with one another when they succeed. If we do this, think of the protection we can provide, which no bad reviews or blogging comments could conquer.

I am a prime example of how the true online community benefits: an unknown writer who’s already botched her first novel and is still surrounded by a wonderful Round Table of authors who believe in her to such an extent that she’s allowed to sit among them; to absorb, albeit through osmosis, their words of experience and wisdom and to apply it to all her future writing endeavors.

She really should work on that whole first person thing, though.