Note To Self-- change you name

Day 1 at the BYU Writers for Young Readers Conference (a.k.a. my best hope for ever getting published) pretty much can be summed up in three simple words: Change Your Name.

Peggy and I arrived early enough to snag the two greatest seats (dead center, second row) in the auditorium of the BYU conference center. I sat, a flustered wreck, waiting for the authors, publishers, editors, and agents to file in and take their seats in front of me. When Tracy and Laura Hickman, a husband/wife writing team, walked past, I jumped out of my seat, and squealed with delight . . . Seriously, that's no lie. Tracy turned and waved hi.

Sigh.

Authors mingled and talked about their latest novels while I watched, giddy and keyed up for the start of the rest of my life.

And then it came. Tracey walked over and leaned in. "How are you?"

Gasp. oh, me, he's talking to me. "I'm fine. I am just so excited to be here. I saw you talk at LTUE and I just died over your address on the first sci-fi movie in space. I wish I could take your class on top of Janette Rallison's class, who I also love to death because her books are just so witty." And on, and on, and on, I rambled until Peggy shot me a look.

"So, tell me, do you have a book completed, or are you writing one?" Tracy glanced from Peggy to me.

"Yes, I do," I said stumbling over my words. "I mean, I have completed a novel."

"oh. Tell me about it." He tilted his head to the side and looked me square in the eye.

Nobody Panic. I've heard about this before. This is called a pitch. I can do this.

"My book, is um, about a, um girl." My breathing accelerated and any coherent thought I might have had scurried around my brain like a runaway dog. I was a MESS. "I mean, there is a girl. And um, her grandfather dies. Oh wait. He doesn't die, but she has to live in California with her mom. And she meets a boy." Your rambling. Stop rambling. "Did I say her name was Elliot? Yes well, she meets a boy and they fall in love."

The End.

My chances were gone within a second after opening my mouth. I looked at Peggy and then back to Tracy. My breathing slowed, and I said, "I think I need to work on my pitch, huh?"

"Yes," he agreed. The corners of his eyes lifted with the curve of his smile. If that's how I started the first moment of the rest of my writing life, then what's next in store?