Richelle Mead and Rachel Vincent

(My encounter with professional writers,
in the form of story archetypes.) 

  

Call to action:  A herald in the form of a newspaper article stuns me by announcing Richelle Mead, an author who has attained the grail of the New York Times bestselling list (and someone who’s been very helpful to me over the years) will be speaking in a workshop as part of the Smart Chicks Kick It Tour. 

Acceptance of call:  I scout out the public park building where the meetings will take place.  Woefully inadequate.  An Inmost Chamber.  I will gather my courage and attend. 

Threshold puzzle:  I arrive early.  Seating for only forty in the audience.  Not good.  And ominous signs on either side of the stage hold this cryptic message: 

Initial attempt:  Over one hundred people crowd into the building.  Through stealth and patience, I attain a seat with a good view of Richelle—kind of: 

The Dreaded Corridor of Teenage Female Hair 

Failure/renewed attempt:  The guardian of the speakers (known as Moderator) announces we must not try to talk to the speakers at the end of the workshop, since they need to eat and attend to other mortal needs.  Foiled. 

But later on, the Melée known as Autograph Session will be held in the same Inmost Chamber.  Only those who bear an offering known as a Book which Must be Signed can enter.  Only those. 

 

I buy one at a Fred Meyer.  Seriously, some of those girls in line

had over a dozen books to get signed.  

Ordeal:  Many of us bearing our offerings gather at the end of the last workshop featuring other speakers.  We await Autograph Session.  The workshop ends.  Moderator Guardian announces the line will form on the Ramp which is commonly adorned with this symbol: 

The Melée begins.  Many on the ramp want to leave, the rest of us want on.  To ascend from the Inmost Chamber, I go up some cement steps while flanked by teenage girls.  This is the scary time.  (Seriously.)  The Melée sorts itself out into a long line, with me and other pilgrims in the part that snakes outside the building. 

Long ordeal, plus unexpected reward:  Many pilgrims bear multiple Books which Must be Signed.  (And can you make this one out to my friend Tiffany?)  We shuffle with our offerings past the many authors.  Richelle Mead is at the end.  I accept bookmarks and other totems from the authors along the way.  More shuffling.  Live music from a hurdy-gurdy wafts over the scene. 

Unexpectedly, I recognize one of the authors.  Rachel Vincent, fairest of the fair among urban fantasy authors.  She agrees to have a pic: 

Climax:  I finally reach Richelle Mead.  I used to ask her questions at the local science fiction convention Norwescon, and she gave me helpful advice at the Surrey Writers’ Conference.  All along the way as she’s ascended like a comet, she would recognize me when she sees me.  She asks me how my writing is going, and I ask her some things about accountants and publishing.  Richelle signs my book (which I will give to a co-worker’s daughter) and agrees to a pic: 

Resolution:  Seriously, I don’t mind buying a book  in order to get some conversation (I know that my co-worker’s daughter will enjoy it), and it’s a good experience to go out and meet some people who are professionals in the business.  It was a fun afternoon.