I don’t dream that often. Or, rather, I don’t remember my dreams. Maybe 2-3 times a year, max.
So, last night was one of those nights. And Robin D Owens, Gena Showalter, and Jill Monroe were all in it. Since I’ve met them all in person outside of writerly events, maybe it make sense that they were there, but it was still a very odd dream.
For one, I was at a writer’s conference. Could have been RWA, but maybe not. It was in a huge, lavish hotel that I know I’ve never been to. And there was a huge buffet of dessert. Cakes and candies and chocolate fountains big enough to dance around in. It was like the Ritz meets Willy Wonka.
And here’s where it gets really weird. Jill is standing outside this door looking very secretive. So, I go up to say hi and ask about the door. She says it’s the dessert area for published authors (PAN) and everything outside is for regular conference members. She tells me not to go in because once I’m in, I can’t come back out for the regular dessert. I tell her that I should go in because I have a book out now and I’m a PAN member…plus, one dessert buffet is as good as another if they’re provided by the same people, right? Looking really saddened and disappointed, she lets me in the room.
Inside, the room is tiny. A storage closet with lots of extra chairs stacked on top of each other. On a little table in the middle is a teensy tray of sugar cookies. Gena is in there telling Robin how it just sucks that everyone else gets the awesome dessert and all we get are the “bitch cookies.” Robin’s trying to eat one of the cookies and grimacing. Gena gets even more mad that we don’t even have any juice or booze to wash down the icky, stale bitch cookies.
She stomps out of the room, grabs Jill, and insists they leave the party because the cookies are for bitches and she’s not eating the bitch cookies. Robin just looks at me, looks at the cookies, sighs, and casts a very longing glance through the open door at the Willy Wonka chocolate fountain.
I don’t know, is my subconscious telling me that being published isn’t as exciting or thrilling as I thought? Did I eat something weird last night? Or am I merely intrigued by the offer of Gena’s bitch cookies?
You decide!
