I love how great things come in threes. Gold, silver, and bronze metals. Coffee, cream, and sugar. The sun, moon, and stars. And my personal favorite, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
This year’s visit to the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference (BRMCWC) will be my third. And based on history, I anticipate great things.
In May 2008, feeling a bit Alice in Wonderland-esque, I fell into my first writer’s conference. Upon arrival at Ridgecrest, North Carolina, I discovered a very weird yet indelibly native wonderland.
The mountains were filled with beginner, intermediate, and widely-read authors. And the land overflowing with editors, publishers, and agents. Finally, a sense of genuine community—these people got it. We spoke the same language, shared similar idiosyncrasies, and dreamed the same dreams.
But dare I dream they would help me—that they could help me—figure out which way to go from here?
As a mostly self-taught writer, it was time. Time to learn. Time to network. And time to confess the secret I’d harbored for years: I am a writer and I want to write books.
Like water for a flower, the serendipitous environment of BRMCWC seduced me to voice my dream. I whispered my idea into attentive ears. It was all I had—a simple, naïve, and undeveloped concept.