I had always thought of myself as a reader, never a writer.  Yet, here I was, feeling like the chicken who suddenly becomes sentient on the bloody loading dock of a Perdue slaughterhouse. I the reader was confronted with 432 writers, published and unpublished alike.  We all had paid $190+ to hear published writers talk about writing at the 32^nd Annual Florida Suncoast Writers Conference, February 6-8.  We were enticed to touch, hear, and be in the same room with real writers.  Among them was the curmudgeon of all curmudgeons, Norman Mailer.  (More about him later.)

More substantively, however, we were treated to the likes of Harry Harrison (West of Eden and the Stainless Steel Rat series.)  He provided excising advice on creating the “narrative hook”—not only to engage the reader, but the editor as well.   Recently, at the USF Library’s “Join Us for an Afternoon with Harry Harrison” on February 24, we learned that Harry has just been elected to the “Science Fiction Hall of Fame.”  It was about time.

Chitra Bannerjee Divakaruni also treated us with her presence by a reading from her most recent novel, Vine of Desire.  Selecting prose about a near death experience in an ambulance, she created a veritable van Gogh of color and visualization.  If words were crayolas, she clearly has the 64 size box, with the sharpener no less.

A real standout at the Conference was Claudia Johnson (Stifled Laughter: One Woman’s Story about Fighting Censorship, a Pulitzer prize nominee) of the Florida State Film School.  Demonstrating wit and charm can go hand in hand with valuable instruction, Claudia taught the necessities of screenplay:  How to subtract and simplify to “the essential moments” of the discovery, new direction, and consequences of the human condition; How to deal with “page fright”—writing out in detail what the writer hates (or loves) about a given character; and most intriguingly, How to generate ideas—crafting an “I want speech” in the voice of the character.  She was delightfully shameless about her plug for Crafting Short Screenplays That Connect.  And, so am I in my praise for her work at the Conference.

Sheree Bykofsky, a real New York literary agent, helped us discover whether we even needed an agent.  We saw the ultimate in passion, ethics, and competence—all in one person.  Shelley Mickle (Replacing Dad and The Queen of October) shared some real secrets with the budding writers—kind of like McDonalds telling Burger King how to make French fries.  As a reader, though, it was troubling—I just want to read a good story, I really don’t want to know how hot dogs are made.  Norma Charles (No Place for a Horse, Darlene’s Shadow, and Amanda Grows Up) indulged us with some wonderful personal stories, and how they became children’s novels.  I loved Laura Ingalls Wilder as a kid, but I wish Norman had been writing then.

Norman Mailer’s keynote speech was interestingly disappointing.  Except for his wonderful metaphors, his oralized essay had nothing to do with writing.  But, he’s Norman Mailer; he can do want he wants, clearly.  While his talk was less than enlightening, it was good to see that he was neither naked nor dead.  Attempting to share his concern about the war in Iraq and America’s response to terrorism, Mailer gave us a rather shallow analysis about fearful people trading civil rights for security.  And, he argued, hyper-patriotism, as a reaction to 911, can easily become fascist.  Important points, but it was too bad that his distinguished mind did not take us beyond what we all learned in our 9^th grade civics class.

So what did this reader do among 432 writers?  I fantasized like all journalists—I too can write the great American novel.  Next year? I plan to attend the Conference as a writer.  See me and we’ll swap stories about “page fright” and editor capriciousness.

–D. Thomas Porter, Ph.D.
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