Conference Chicken

I promise my blog isn't turning into funny stories about Carla, but this came to mind and I thought it would be nice to share with the world. LOL!

In 2001, my writing group held a writers' conference and I attended. I had been to only one before about four years earlier, but I was still new to the whole conference thing. I never forget when someone asked me (I think it was you, JoAnn) if I was interested in an editor or agent appointment? I'm sure I had horror written all over my face, because the person quickly said, "You don't have to have one if you rather not." Of course, I said, "No, thank you." I didn' realize until years later how I missed out on a great opportunity, but then again, I wasn't prepared. So it was probably for the best.

Everyone was friendly and smiling. I didn't really know anyone as I rarely attended meetings, what with the full schedule my kids had. But I did enjoy so many of the workshops including the one I shared with Linda Howard. A few months later, her book, OPEN SEASON, came out and inside was the very information we'd learned together in the Drug Enforcement workshop. That was so cool.

Anyway, the luncheon was wonderful. Several published authors spoke including the same Linda Howard. She did a great job and talked about so much I could relate to. Wait! Enough about Linda. I promised a story about the "conference chicken."

Well, as I said, I didn't know anyone so I sat at a table full of strangers. I did notice most if not all the ladies (maybe 8 including me) at the table were slim to downright skinny. Being a well-figured gal myself, I didn't care. It was great being with others like me, dreaming of becoming published. So there I sat, listening to the fast pace talk about things I didn't quite understand like pitches, queries, and submittals. Then the servers came in with our main dish. Half of a chicken breast and veggies. The person sitting on my left was first and the servers continued clockwise away from me. They brought out plate after plate of the biggest chicken breasts you've ever seen, sitting them in front each woman. I knew how those chicken's died. They had fell face first into their big bosoms and suffocated.

I thought, that's such a shame, those skinny ladies would never finish not even half of such huge chunks of meat. I was starving and couldn't wait for my big piece. Then the thought came to me, watch, it will be the smallest, puniest piece of meat you'd ever seen.

As soon as the server sat it in front of me, I laughed. Everyone glanced at me as if I had lost my mind. I ignored them and dug into my...let me say it like Leghorn Foghorn described Miss Prissy, "Gal reminds me of the highway between Ft. Worth and Dallas - no curves."