I attended the Nonfiction Authors Association annual conference expecting to fill a notebook.
I did.
The speakers were excellent. The sessions were informative. I came away with pages of notes on publishing, marketing, speaking, and building an author platform.
But as the days passed, I realized the most valuable thing I brought home wasn’t in my notebook.
It was the people.
Like many writers, I attended hoping to learn. My book, Safe to Swallow, is moving steadily toward completion, and I know it’s time to take publishing and marketing more seriously. I wanted information. I wanted feedback. I wanted to understand what comes next.
What I didn’t expect was how much encouragement I would find.
One of the highlights of the conference was a breakout session where I was placed in a small group with several other writers, including Christina VandePohl, a physician and medical examiner writing about her career, and Mike Larsen, a retired literary agent, editor, and author.
On the surface, Christina and I came from different worlds. Yet we quickly discovered common ground. She writes from her experiences in medicine. I write from mine in pharmacy. She’s working on a memoir. I’m working on memoir and mystery fiction. Before long, we weren’t simply exchanging ideas — we were supporting one another.
A conference session had introduced us. A friendship was beginning to form.
That happened repeatedly throughout the conference.
Writers shared experiences. They exchanged websites and email addresses. They offered suggestions and encouragement. Nobody seemed guarded or competitive. People genuinely wanted one another to succeed.
I remember thinking: I’ve never been part of a group quite like this.
Not in business.
Not in healthcare.
Not even in church.
Everywhere I turned, people were generous with their time, knowledge, and support.
Perhaps what surprised me most was how naturally everyone accepted me as a writer.
During the sessions, I participated in the chat, shared ideas, answered questions, and learned from others. Nobody asked whether I was “really” a writer. Nobody questioned my credentials because I had spent most of my career as a pharmacist and healthcare professional.
To them, I was a writer.
Simple as that.
Sometimes we don’t realize how much we need others seeing us until it happens.
When the conference ended, I felt encouraged, energized, inspired, and grateful. But if I had to choose the two feelings that stayed with me the longest, they would be these:
Seen.
Validated.
I attended the conference looking for information.
I found that.
What I didn’t expect was to find community.
When people talk about conferences, they often focus on the keynote speakers, the workshops, and the presentations. Those things matter.
But sometimes the most important moments happen between the sessions.
A conversation.
A shared story.
A word of encouragement.
A new friendship.
A reminder that we aren’t making the journey alone.
Those are the moments I brought home with me.
And they never appeared in my notebook.
