Latest and least of these, I attended this year’s Writer UnBoxed OnConference. It seems to be a theme for me, showing up latest and least to WU. Due to a writing contest promoted by the great Porter Anderson, I won a scholarship to the first one.

(That was back when I was still riding high in the wake of being an early adopter on Twitter). The scholarship allowed me to attend a conference I had only heard about through Porter’s contest. That scholarship turned out rather fortuitous. I could have attended many conferences for my first. I have since attended many. But I went to Writer Unboxed the first time. From there, I built long lasting relationships and writing habits that I’ll carry with me to my grave. WU to me seems often more like other spiritual retreats, group therapy, and green room conversations I’ve had. It feels form-fit for folks destined for the long haul: less of a commercial venture, more of a community; less of a franchise, more of a foundation.

The Writer Unboxed Unconference transformed into Writer Unboxed Onconference as we shift from pandemic life to normal life. Honestly, I’m not the audience for online conferences. At all. Even though I’ve attended them. Even though I’ve been a keynote at several. Even though I’ve done digital performances and house shows. Even though I founded and ran the largest pre-pandemic online conference in my area of expertise (no, I don’t mean writing). I ran one as the main broadcaster for some 140 sought after speakers and can confidently say I don’t like them (it also, frankly, wasn’t worth eating subway on 5 minute breaks and sleeping on a couch in the studio for 18 days). I think, generally, I prefer pubs to conference centers. I prefer letters to email. I prefer hardcovers to ebooks. I prefer blogs to social media.

So on through the hierarchy of intimacy, particularly in the writing life.

Though I prefer pubs to uncons, and uncons to conferences, it’s yet a step further for me to turn conference centers into digital environs.

I only loathe online community in the hierarchy of meaningful intimacy because I prefer in person community. I only loathe online writing retreats because I prefer to get an airbnb with writer friends in the woods. I’m the guy who quit Facebook my first year in BKNY after having been an early adopter on Facebook my freshman year of college in 2005. Same with Twitter. Same with purging all three of my reddit accounts, etcetera. Generally, I’ve limited social media to a couple of discussion boards with friends. A couple of discord servers. Email and text and interacting in the comments below \/

Speaking of Letters to a Young Poet, I need to get back to letter writing…

So I’m a hard, hard sell on things like Writer Unboxed Unconference — no lie, no exaggeration.

Keep that in mind.

I’ve seen an online conference done well once. And not for me or one I hosted, for my bride Tara. She attended something that The Craft Sessions by Felicia Semple hosted: The SoulCraft online festival. In that lone case, I can say it worked well. It had longevity, Tara learned tons, practiced tons. She also connected with a bunch of Australians we may never have afforded to meet. So there’s that. They kept the lectures up for a long time and Tara caught up with nearly everything.

Short of that, I didn’t see an online conference working well for writers — or writers like me.

And yet…

Self-experimenter and autodidact and chronic library patron that I am, I was willing to try.

Especially for Writer Unboxed.

Especially when graciously invited by Sean and Therese to see Lisa and Brian and DD and Heather and Don and Dave and… and… and…

That’s why in the wake of the Writer Unboxed Onconference, mindful of the ghosts of Uncons past, I told Therese Walsh in private she should stand tall and be proud of herself. I remain grateful for her. She did an outstanding job. Around 100 authors, editors, agents attended and worked — as ever — on their works in progress.

And you know what?

I had a beer with so, so many old friends from all over the world several evenings over the course of two weeks. On video calls, of course. During those after hours conversations, I had plot problems solved, encountered rare books from the libraries of fellow authors, and even learned some things about the film industry and my own biases I didn’t know. I laughed VERY HARD a few times, which I desperately needed this year of 5 funerals. It was, generally, very collaborative. I made great connections with folks who will be submitting to the next OGAG anthology. Others I helped with their work, with encouragement, with letting them know I’m in their corner. Still others I connected to one another and stepped into the shadows, as I often prefer: I love the idea of thinking some fringe connection I made may well birth or beget some beautiful collaboration and no one in the future will ever know I connected those two folks.

Donald Maass talked about his upcoming manuscript on writing timeless fiction: The Bones of the Gods. Dave King, author of Self Editing for Fiction Writers and this article on experimental fiction, live-edited our dialog passages. We had sessions from Barbara Lynn Probst and bestsellers and gurus and indies.

It was, more or less, an Unconference. At home.

It was, more or less, as deep as a digital interaction can possibly get.

About writing, no less. My categorical hesitations and misgivings about online conferences be damned. I was wrong to doubt in this particular instance: it was fun. It was good. Therese did great.

Will I do it again?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I’m unsure. I know I enjoyed myself, learned some things amid a busy schedule, and generally liked seeing everyone at the Writer Unboxed Onconference. I know if you’re remotely into that sort of thing, you should give it a try next time it’s on offer.

And if you’re like me and find yourself born in the wrong century and have significant misgivings, maybe in this one exception, there’s an online conference out there just for you?

Maybe Writer Unboxed Onconference is the Soulcraft of the writing world?

I know once it was finished, I immediately blocked off my calendar once more for the first week in November. Then (God willing and Massachusetts seaboard don’t rise) we shall all once more descend upon Salem and the Hawthorne Hotel. If anything, seeing everyone online made me certain of that: I need to see them live again, in person.

I need some of them to hug my bride.

I need to touch the spines and silky covers of their newest books. And get more of their signatures.

Cause long-term: I miss my friends, my colleagues, my writing fam.

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If you attended, what did you think?

If you didn’t attend, what sorts of things do you look for in an in-person or digital conferece?

If you’re a writer, how do you normally get support?

Let me know in the comments.