Well, it’s that time again. I’m packing my bags and getting ready to head out to another conference. My question is always: who will I meet on this trip that will change me?
Does that mean, who will I meet that will make me a bundle of money? No, but that would be nice. What it really means is, I’ll meet someone on the trip who changes how I view my world, my life, my job, or any number of other things. That person makes it worth standing in the TSA line for an hour as I inch my way toward the flight. It means that when we meet, I begin to see my job as far more than merely signing someone to a contract.
Last year, I met a woman who brought new meaning to the topic of cancer survivor. Did I take on her book? No, but she changed my view of cancer, and, of surviving it. And I’ll see her as a friend the rest of my life.
Another woman and I had in common the military. I had served, her family had served. And I’ll never look at the wives and husbands of military personnel the same way again. We’re still connected on FB, and she means the world to me.
Conferences mean much more than finding the next bestselling novel. It means meeting the next bestseller of a human being.
I know, I know. The bottomline and all. But in the end, I can’t take the bottomline to heaven, but friends? That’s a whole ‘nother story. We’ll meet again.
I hate packing. I’m not particularly fond of standing in security lines. I don’t relish stumping around on a bum leg just 3 ½ weeks outside of knee surgery. But meeting amazing folks with personal stories to tell—stories much more important than their fiction ones makes it all worthwhile.
Look out Seattle, here I come!