Yoomur

You don't often think of a humor writers' conference as the place for somber introspection. I had a fabulous time swinging from the chandeliers with a great group of fun loving and talented people at the Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop last weekend, but in fact I left with a few tough bones to chew.

I learned from author Wade Rouse that really good writing - and especially the humorous kind - is often borne of heartache and comes from a place of deep vulnerability. (A place where I rarely venture.)

I learned that if you are writing something for entertainment value alone, it better be devastatingly funny. Better to write well and have a deeper message so if the humor bombs, at least the piece will not. (Ooof!)

And I was reminded that an essential element of success is daily discipline. You have to write often and copiously to hone your craft and get better and better at it. There is no such thing as writers' block. You just sit down and write, even if that means getting up at five o' clock and staring at the wall.

Finally, I witnessed firsthand how people who come to conferences prepared with business cards and armed with 30 second pitches, as well as those who network confidently with everyone they meet instead of, for example, donning a cloak of invisibility and going to bed early, end up hobnobbing with published writers. (Note to self: next time, bring business cards, stay up late, wear Louboutins.)

But don't get me wrong. I had a great time and met a lot of fabulous people, like the brilliant and multi-talented KC, Choonkooloonks, Wendi Aarons, Smacksy, and Jennifer from These Are the Days, just to name a few.

I heard New York Times columnist Gail Collins rock the house with her keynote speech, listened to hilarious USA Today columnist Craig Wilson read his work, and watched live stand-up comedy expertly executed by Late Show writer Bill Scheft.

I had the chance to stand up in front of a full auditorium and read a piece I'd written.

I was hypnotized and learned how to apply guided imagery techniques in my writing.

I was mistaken for a girl scout while earnestly trying to network one day at lunch. That was a total bummer.

I got carded at a college bar with Classy Chaos. That was fun!

And . . . one more thing. My nagging suspicion that this blog I started almost three years ago as a creative outlet and a way to pass the time while the kids napped doesn't feel quite right anymore was confirmed.

Since I had no business cards with me, I said "RimaRama" out loud a lot. And it sounded kind of stupid. I also spent about ten minutes trying to explain to one person what the suffix "rama" means. And here I always thought it was pretty self-explanatory. (She also wondered why I was wearing a crown in my header and I was like, "because this blog is my alter ego and my alter ego wears a crown." And she was like . . . "Hmmmmm." Then I thanked her and ran away.)

So I'm thinking - just thinking - about killing RimaRama off and starting anew.

But I'm not going anywhere just yet. I will keep you posted!