Attempt to act normal at a writers' conference
I went to 2025 AWP, and all I got was mildly empowered. (I also got a cute tote bag.)
This week, I put on my big girl pants and went to the 2025 AWP Conference & Bookfair in Los Angeles.
Confession time: I’m scared of other writers.
I don’t have a writing degree or any juicy credentials. I haven’t published anything (yet). Heck, I’m still getting the hang of things here on Substack.
None of my actual writer friends could attend. So it would be me, on my lonesome, driving to Downtown LA (gulp) and trying to hide the annoying facial tic I’ve developed since coming off my anti-anxiety meds.
I was so nervous, I didn’t sleep a wink the night before.
And it’s not like I was doing anything actually scary—no presenting, moderating, or reading. Just attending. But still, my anxious brain took over.
Maybe I’d walk into the Convention Centre and an alarm would blare, announcing that an impostor had entered? Or maybe someone would ask me about my work, and I’d have to explain my memoir in a way that didn’t make them run away crying?
You may be surprised to hear that neither of these things happened.
It was, in fact, not only OK—but actually quite nice.
Here’s a list of (nearly) every thought that popped into my head over the weekend:
There’s a disproportionate number of women here. Cool!
The writers brave enough to speak during Q&As are utterly earnest.
The young attendees are… well… so young.
A big part of looking cool is dressing kind of stupid. (Guilty.)
It seems like all of the writers on panels are also teachers.
At some point, I became too old to sit in such hard metal chairs.
There is such an incredibly diverse group of writers here. Why was I so afraid?
Writing with a brand new pen is an unparalleled joy.
All the panelists are such interesting people.
They’re interesting because they’ve done interesting things.
They did interesting things by simply following their own interests.
When did so many of us lose this skill?
There are so many jokes about writerly compulsions and neuroses. They’re very funny—but also a little alarming. Are we writers OK?
Some people are really obsessed with comma placement. Do I need to learn more about this?
The agents on panels all seem very young—but I suspect they’re the same age as me, which means... I might actually be old.
Has every single person in this room written a book? That would be amazing if so.
I’ve become oddly afraid of talking to strangers. Am I one of those people who needs beta-blockers?
Deep down, I know why I’m so nervous: I’m scared people will think I don’t belong here.
Which leads me to the favourite quote I heard shared this weekend:
“It’s such a confidence trick, writing a novel. The main person you have to trick into confidence is yourself. This is hard to do alone.”
―Zadie Smith, Changing My Mind: Occasional Essays
I’m still not entirely sure I belonged there, but I’m really glad I went.
It reminded me that most of us are just trying—nervously, imperfectly—to make our dreams come true. And maybe that’s the whole point. If you’re thinking of doing something that scares you a bit (especially if it involves hard chairs and strangers), consider this your nudge. You might surprise yourself.
Have you done something that scared the shit out of you this week? How did it go?! 💩
Thanks so much for reading! Please hit the ❤️ button if you made it all the way to the end; it really buoys my sensitive soul.
That made me laugh out loud! I have lived my life doing something that scares me. When you step out of your comfort zone that’s where the most exciting opportunities lie.
This is so relatable and I think every writer (no matter how experienced) has some level of impostor syndrome. It must be a side effect of spending so much time locked in our own heads and feeding those neuroses! Well done for going, it's so brave to be scared and do it anyway.