Photo credit: Hippo Campus Magazine

Giddy is the only way to describe the incredible joy I felt reading from Chicken Bone Beach in front an audience of my peers. A conference immersed with writings of truth, mine was one chocked full of images. Telling someone else's truth has me on edge, ensuring I'm factual, never knowing if there is an expert of the history lurking in the crowd.

Personally, I couldn't have dreamed up a more exciting debut Writer's Conference if I tried. An attendee of the conference saw a painting of some women walking down Kentucky Avenue, most likely, on their way to Chicken Bone Beach at a thrift/consignment store in Lancaster, a resident of Lancaster read about me in the LNP Sunday Magazine and was on a mission to find me and gave his contact information to the staff of the Hippo Campus Conference. Apparently, he spent a great deal of time visiting Chicken Bone Beach. The Story Slam was so moving that I laughed hysterically at times, and cried about a storyteller's friendship with a dying close friend. Overall, alot of the connections I made were matched with my dreams for the book so perfectly. Somebody wake me. And the topping on the Potato Martini Bar was selling all of my books. (That's a Hippo Campus/Lancaster Marriott inside convo.)

I anticipate the next occasion when I gather again with my tribe of truth-tellers. Nevertheless, I departed from the event inspired to push myself to the next level, and my fears and doubts fade as I hear my very own publisher, Lawrence Knorr tell us that we deserve to be paid well for our valuable time.

I'm eager to write something else: An essay, memoir, blog, diary entry, childhood memory, any truth that ignites me. Like the wise and funny author, Abby Thomas said, "just write."

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