What first impression did you make?

We all get but one first impression. We have only one chance to make it a good one. And I know I've lacked sorely in that department. 

Do you know how important it is? Before you tell me yes, and before you tell me a story of someone's first impression on you, allow me this. 

Years ago, I went to a Romance Writer's National Conference in Washington. It was my first and walking into the literacy signing that first day was like a baptism of fire. I was overwhelmed by the number of women there. Thousands.

Then, a tiny, pretty woman stepped from the crowd. "Barbara!" she called. Her name was Danica Favorite, a fellow writer who took care of some of the Harlequin boards and rallied the Love Inspired writers when we needed rallying. She recognized my name and wanted to say hello.

I could have hugged her. A light shining in the dark, she was, for I was not well known back then. That first impression that she made was awesome.

Fast forward a few years later, in Atlanta, my second conference, and I still remembered Danica's kindness. And there she was, sitting in the lounge, talking to another writer. I couldn't help myself. I hurried up to her and told her, after excusing myself for interrupting, that I appreciated what she'd done years before. She'd made a wonderful, kind first impression on me.

I walked away, telling my companion what Danica had said to me, years before. My friend promptly grabbed me. "Did you see what you did!  Did you see who Danica was talking to?"

I swiveled my head around. "No. I just saw Danica."

"She was talking to Nora Roberts!"

Oh. Well, there goes my good first impression with Nora. I'd been terribly rude, but in my excitement of seeing one kind person I had forgotten my manners. (It's not good form to interrupt people talking at conferences, I was told. Oops. But to be honest, if I followed that rule to the letter, with 2,000 plus romance writers, I probably wouldn't get a word in edgewise!)

Still, my point remains. Danica had made a wonderful first impression. We only get one chance to make that first impression and yes, we screw it up sometimes. 

Now that you've heard my sorry story, the story behind my rather poor first impression on Nora Roberts, I'm going to ask you to do something the next time someone makes a bad first impression on you. 

I'm going to ask you to remember me, because that person ruining his or her first impression with you may not be doing anything malicious at all.

They just don't realize that you're as special as Nora Roberts is.

My First Conference! Blog 3 of 5

CAUTION! Pictures of many romance-loving ladies ahead. All men should be prepared to be overwhelmed.




I’d registered, slipped the conference lanyard around my neck, and toured the Goodie Room, a place where promo items are given away. A gal can’t have too many bookmarks, right? My conference tote was designed by Harlequin, and featured an old Harlequin, back when men wrote the adventure stories of that time. The cover featured boasted a scintillating title. “You never know with women.”
How true. And this being my first conference, well, I didn’t know. Women of all shape and size were there, all styles, and all talent. And I learned you can fit 2500 romance writers in a basement loading area of the Marriott.



I did learn something else pretty quick. The more famous you are, the thinner you are. Nora Roberts is a size double zero, I figure. If she sells another book, she’ll disappear. Me? I’m a size fourteen, so I have a lot more books to sell, I see.
I wanted to go to the Newbie’s meeting, (or Newb’s meeting, as my teen son would have called it) but was told I wasn’t a newbie, that I knew the ropes, so I took their word for it. And, surprisingly, I did know more than I thought. Not being a shy person, I simply walked up, sat down beside and met many people just by shoving out my hand and introducing myself.
And I discovered that many people know me. Mostly editors, which begs the question on how they know me. Hmm. My brilliant, clear, concise prose?
Or my obsessive nervousness that pretty much seeps into my emails and phone calls? I guess I’ll never know.
My roomies were impressed, saying it was my writing. As I was up for a Daphne award, we went to the Death by Chocolate party. Okay, everyone. I like chocolate as much as the next person, but to be frank, am I supposed to eat that much? I am a little out of practice, here. But the stalwart soldier that I am, I gave it the old college try. I didn’t win a Daphne, but met an agent to whom I had spoke years ago. I joked about a bomb back then, and she remembered me. (Remember my roomie poking me when I shoved my foot into my mouth? She was at another table.)
Well, I didn’t win the award for which I had been nominated. But I eat a ton of fresh fruit, including black raspberries the size of large strawberries, and little cheesecakes drizzled in chocolate. I couldn’t leave without smothering my sorrows in sugar. Okay, there wasn’t any sorrow, but I gave it the old college try, remember?
The next day there was a breakfast, and I learned that you have to get to the food before all the other starving artists got there. Coffee is exceptionally valuable. I’d brought my own meal replacement bars, but with a complimentary continental breakfast, which included cheese and those giant raspberries again, those bars got shoved into my suitcase.
And I was discovering something else. My tummy isn’t used to rich food. It better adjust quickly, though. I’d paid for three more rich meals.
Well, it didn’t quite turn out the way I wanted it to…

Tune in tomorrow for the next installment!