Susan, that sounds like an awesome conference for you! Let's hope some of these contacts bear fruit.

Susan, those moments of synchronicity are things of beauty, aren't they?

Susan, those moments of synchronicity are things of beauty, aren't they?

Indeed. All the more given that I really had no personal expectations from this conference. I just wanted the editor/agent Q&A and appointments to run as smoothly as possible. I knew I'd be meeting Mary Balogh, but I never would've dreamed of asking her for a critique unless she volunteered.

I also had some really good conversations with other writers, some published, some not. For some reason networking comes easily to me in a room full of writers.

Susan! That is just so excellent.

Sounds fantastic, Susan. I'm really glad.

drabble

"You're not leaving this table until you eat that."

I stare at the congealing creamed corn on my dinner plate. Mother stomps out of the dining room, then comes back in and sits down.

"Why won't you eat it?"

The TV's on in the living room. The creamed corn is a color never seen in nature.

Mother leaves again. I drift away on daydreams. Two hours later it's bed time, and the creamed corn has not been touched.

"Go to bed," Mother snaps. "I should make you eat that tomorrow night."

I meet her eyes. She walks away.

connie, my mother gave up trying to make me eat her cookery early on, after I said her cooking smelled like poo.

Superb drabble.

I was always more the passive resistance type. I was the youngest child and Mother was too tired for another round of the wars. I quietly got away with murder.

So was I the youngest, by rather a lot; nearest sibling is 8.5 years my senior. But I was always completely aggressive, unlike my sisters, so my mother and I were in a state of vicious - and occasionally violent - warfare from the day I went to live with them.

Nothing would have induced me to eat her food, except her pastry. She was a dreadful cook. I wouldn't have fed that stuff to a horde of warthogs.

No drabble topic today?