State of the Reunion

Ms. Rachow will be working at the 36th “reunion” of the Santa Barbara Writers Conference, at Fess Parker’s DoubleTree Resort.

Ever have that terrible dream where it’s the night of your senior prom, and the guy (or gal) who was supposed to be your date tells you he’s (or she’s) going with some cute junior instead of with you, but it doesn’t matter anyway because your nose has a zit the size of Mount Rushmore?
Ever wanted to get sweet revenge on your entire life as a teenager?
Ever wondered exactly how to do that?
Two ways: One, become wildly successful, rich and drop-dead gorgeous, go to your class reunion and gloat. Or, two, do what I’m doing -- write a novel to avenge your adolescent honor with a character who does all of the above.
I survived high school in a small Nebraska town where I was not a cheerleader, not the class valedictorian, and not the star of the volleyball team.
I was the one who couldn’t wait to get the hell out and move to California. I was the one who decided to deal with lingering teenaged angst by writing the novel where things go my character’s way once in a while.
So is it any wonder that when my class organized our recent blankity-blank-ends-in-a-zero reunion, the committee left me off the list?
I wish I’d heard about the gathering in time to make the pilgrimage to see just how old everyone else looked, because a writer can always use more material.
And there’s always the chance old scores can be settled.
For example, before Ernie Witham went to his reunion in Laconia, New Hampshire, he wrote a humor piece for his old hometown paper, and his former classmates gave him the “Who Wudda Thunk It?” award.
Ernie will tell this story of sweet revenge in his humor workshop at the Santa Barbara Writers Conference, beginning next week. There, writers from all over the world will gather to hone their skills and, in some cases, to find literary methods for sticking it to their former high school chums.
I’ve been a part of this great reunion of writers since it was held at old Miramar Hotel, back when those funky roofs were still bright blue. Back before Marcia Meier became conference director. Back so long ago that conference founder Barnaby Conrad still had a full head of hair.
One purpose of this writers conference is to learn about writing. Another is to see if you can go the entire week without sleeping.
Workshops begin at 9:00 AM, a civilized enough hour…that first day.
But the pirate workshops go late, and Shelly Lowenkopf’s continues into the wee hours. Then, after we diehards drag ourselves back to our computers, we work on rewrites and watch the sunrise.
By the second day, 9:00 AM is an ungodly hour.
Day three, it’s brutal. I see my nerves jangling in vivid Technicolor.
After that I figure, what the hell, sleep is for those sissies who show up at class reunions.
That mucho grande latte I just chug-a-lugged makes me cocky, and I’m sure my autobiographical novel about my high school years is just what the big time publishers are looking for.
On agents day I order triple espressos, and keep’em coming, because I want to be awake to make my pitch.
When it’s my turn, I tell a prospective New York agent about the scene I’ve written where my fifty-something character arrives at her class reunion looking thirty years younger and shockingly like Jennifer Lopez:
“When her former beau sees her sashay in, he can’t frigging believe he dumped her for that cute new girl so many year ago. Now, that cutie is a Kathy Bates look-alike with smudged makeup. The old boyfriend is just about to beg my heroine for the next dance, when George Clooney appears out of nowhere and leads her onto the dance floor. That year George and she lived in Buenos Aires perfecting their tango really pays off. What do you think?” I ask.
“The market’s flooded with high school memoirs,” the agent replies. “What else ya got?”
“How about tale of sweet revenge set at a writers conference?”
The agent tilts his head and raises one eyebrow. “Tell me more.”
Ever have that great dream where out of nowhere appears an acquiring editor who hands you a contract and a pen?
Ever wonder how to make that dream come true?
Two ways: One, have lots of talent and work hard. And two, have your “class reunion” every year at the Santa Barbara Writers Conference.
First published in the Montecito Journal June 12, 2008