15 Tips for Tabling at Writing Conferences

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Hedgebrook

In the two and a half years I’ve worked for Hedgebrook, I’ve attended several writing conferences. Here are some observations I’ve made that I hope will help you the next time you’re hosting a table at one of these events!

 

1) Check out how you check in.

This may seem like a no-brainer, but pour over the registration information. Where do you load in? Print a map. Where do you park? Do you need a pass? Is there a limited window for load in?

If possible, reach out to the conference coordinator. Let them know you’re excited for the conference and clarify the aspects that aren’t clear in the registration materials. You’ll be thankful you’ve built the relationship before you arrive.
2) Pack light.

This cannot be overemphasized. If possible, consolidate all your tabling materials into a single suitcase with wheels. Hand carts are usually scarce and you can be left waiting for one for several minutes. Also, having all your tabling materials in a wheeled suitcase increases your flexibility in where you park.

Conferences often offer the option of a shipping service or have a FedEx onsite. Speaking from the personal experience of waiting two hours in a line at AWP Boston, I can tell you, you’re better off if you pack light.
3) Be social.

Starting 2-3 weeks before the conference, consider broadcasting your presence on your organization’s social networks as well as your personal feeds. See if the conference has a Facebook page or a Twitter handle and tag them in your posts.

Research if there is a conference hashtags (i.e. #AWP14). Use it!

An enticing image of you at your table can be a draw. I posted one on my personal Instagram and a friend from high school found me and brought other people with her to engage with my organization.

Bolster engagement by running a social campaign. For AWP this year, we ran an #EqualVoice campaign. We asked people to write down what they do to support women writers on a 2 x 3 label and we wallpapered room dividers with the responses. We also  tweeted all the responses we received.
4) Be wary of Wi-Fi.

Some conferences will assure you that there is on-site Wi-Fi open to all participants. Others will offer Wi-Fi packages for purchase. I’ve found that in either case, the Wi-Fi is rarely reliable. If you’re running a Square off of your phone or tablet, do a test run before the conference is open to the public. Have a hard copy of a credit card order form at the ready in case the network gets overloaded. Bring your device chargers and scope out the nearest plugins to make sure you can get through the day without with a full battery!
5) Know thy neighbor.

You’ll usually have at least a couple of neighbors. Introduce yourself! Find out about their organization, sign up for their mailing list and ask them about past experiences at conferences. It’s good karma and may give you greater insight into that given conference or others you might not know about.
6) At what cost?

Having a table at a conference is rarely free. Know the rates: booth, table, and half table. Make your decision deepening on the locale, rate and audience, which leads us to…
7) Know your goals.

Be specific about what you want to get out of the conference. “Having a presence,” or “Because we’ve always gone” or “Because we should”–none of these reasons have measurable goals associated with them.

Hard goals, such as a number of mailing sign ups or total of books or merchandise sold–you’ll know when you achieve these goals.

We attach a value to each mailing list sign up (based on an average of donations and tuition for earned income programs received for each name received.) When entering conference attendees into your database, make a note of the conference so you can better track the return on your investment.

For help with goal setting, check out marketing guru Lance Leasure of Orange Gerbera.
8) Scheduling is key.

If you have a table or a booth, it’s wise to stagger shifts. Reach out locally to stakeholders who may be attending the conference and see if anyone is interested in volunteering. Note: be sure to be clear if they’ll need to have a registration badge or not. Some conference require badges at all times, while others let people come and go freely. If you’re attending alone, you may get multiple badges.

You may think that you can sit and stand at a table and talk to people about your organization, but by hour four or give, you’ll be wanting a break.
9) Snacks are important.

Tabling is the olympics of marketing for writing organizations. Be well fueled. I always bring a refillable water bottle and a couple of high-protein granola bars. Remember, you are never too busy to be well hydrated!
10) Make the rounds.

I try to set aside 1-2 hours where I can do a tour of the other tables and booths. I make note of the booth designs and tools to promote engagement that catch my eye.

Introduce yourself to like-minded organizations. Sign up for mailing lists. Pick 1-2 sessions that excite you–these can be great talking points for you when you get back to your table.
11) Meaningful Swag.

Swag, or branded take-aways, are a staple of writing conferences. Everyone wants to have the coolest stuff. Make your swag work for you! At the very least, have your website clearly printed on your swag, if not a unique url (i.e. AWP.Hedgebrook.org) so you can capture page views. Food is great and will draw people, but make sure it’s individually wrapped, or the conference food service may take it away.
12) Dress for success. 

Maybe it’s the actor in me, but I carefully consider my conference attire (or costume.) Think about the kind of writer you want to attract to your table. People have a lot of ground to cover during conferences, and the way you (and your table) are dressed can influence if they stop by or not.

Personally, I opt for dressy jeans and a bold top over which I can layer a blazer or a dress dressed down with leggings. Shoes should be COMFORTABLE. You’re going to be standing on cement floors for several hours–opt for practicality over fashion.

For your table attire, consider a custom table cloth with your logo and/or a tall pop-up banner. Put posters and books in uprights or stands and make sure your mailing list signup isn’t an afterthought. A legal pad does the job, but isn’t enticing. Even a basic sign up document created in Word and printed on colored paper, framed by a clipboard classes things up a bit. As an alternative, consider creating paper slips that enter participants into a drawing.

Also, setting up your table before you travel and taking a picture can be extremely helpful in confirming that all your materials look they way you want them to.
13) Get carded.

Bring business cards. And use them. Exchange them. Collect them. I bribg my official Hedgebrook cards, but I also bring my personal writer/actor cards that point to my personal website.

 

14) Writers are introverts.

While this is not an overarching rule, I have found it to be a trend. Conferences are overwhelming explosions of awesome like-minded people. Be mindful that there are some people who may be out of their element. Be gentle.

I make the choice not to be aggressive when people approach my table. There will always be those who prefer to surreptitiously take a postcard to read later and then they’re on their way. I respect this.

If someone approaches the table and sticks around for longer then 5-7 seconds, I’ll ask them one of the following questions:

“Are you a writer?”
“What genre do you work in?”
“What’s your favorite session been?”
“Have you heard of us.”
15) Have a drink.

A lot of deeper connections are made off-site, at after-hours events. Attend readings and find out where the hotspots are. You’ll be glad you did!
What’s what I’ve learned while tabling. How about you?

Five Shallow Saucers

Tags

coffee, Hedgebrook, Llamas

 

The first person who arrives at work
goes into the Farmhouse to make coffee.

It’s nine o’clock on a Friday morning
and none of the writers have come down
from their cottages yet: I like to think
of them snug in their sleeping lofts,
dreaming up ideas for their next novel
or poem or play or essay.

First, I fill the grinder with the
regular beans, three scoops full.
Next, I add three scoops of the decaf beans.
(They are darker in color and less oily,
I remember this from my training as a barista.)

The grinder whirs as I fill the carafe
with water and wait. Vito makes the coffee
best, I muse. He must have superhuman
coffee-making powers associated with being
Italian, as he does with parking and
bending the laws of space and time
when driving in his Prius.

As the coffee brews, I look through the
window over the kitchen sink and see
the crow who has once again returned
to wash what he has scavenged in the bird bath.

A writer arrives and cuts up an apple:
“I like to cross the road first thing
each morning and feed the llamas.”

“I swear they recognize the word ‘apples,’
if you call it out,” I offer.

We agree that the male llama seems to be
the ringleader–he’s more aggressive than
the other two, only allowing them to partake
after he has gently smacked down apple chunks.

Five shallow saucers filled with water
upon which flowers float adorn the
Farmhouse Table.

The light hits the table
at just the right angle and it is a light
for all writers, full of hope and possibility.

As I dump the coffee grounds into the compost,
I reflect on how nice it is that at Hedgebrook,
no one minds if you take a minute

to stop
& write a poem.

What Kind of Pie Are You?

Tags

A Commonplace Book of Pie, baking, Hedgebrook, Kate Lebo, Pie, Poetry, Portland, Wordstock

One of the most rewarding aspects of my job is introducing the idea of Hedgebrook to women for the first time. There is a place in the woods on Whidbey Island with six cottages that are always filled with women writers from around the world…It sounds like a fairy tale, and I feel pure delight as see I how brightly their eyes light up. Sometimes all they can say is “Oh….wow.”

At Hedgebrook, we are all about words, women and food. So, naturally, when I traveled to Portland for Wordstock last weekend, I met Kate Lebo.

Kate Lebo is an award winning poet and baker. She runs a cliche-busting pastry academy in Seattle, called Pie School. She approached the Hedgebrook booth in a mod vintage dress with a handful of felt letters strewn diagonally across it. After a brief conversation, she invited me to a reading from her new book, A Commonplace Book of Pie.

How could I say no to pie?

The next day, I sat down for the reading, curious to see what she would do with the flour, water and butter on the table. After a few moments, she began. Here’s the thing: the reading was magical. It wasn’t just a reading, it was a demonstration on how to make a pie crust from scratch, seasoned with readings of her pie poetry.

She held her baking implements and ingredients as if they held supernatural powers.

“I think that recipes are connected to magic spells, especially if you don’t know how they work.”

She sifted King Arthur flour back and forth between two measuring cups as though she were conducting a symphony, until the she had two and a half cups in the form of a floury cloud. She then discussed the differences between lard, butter and crisco, while carefully dissecting two sticks of butter, warning us that the butter must ALWAYS be cold.

“If your butter is warm, it will wrap around the particles of flour and laminate it like an ID badge so no water can get through.”

A Commonplace Book of Pie is not just a cookbook. Or a book of poetry. It is both and more. She asked members of the audience to divine their pie fates by naming their favorite and seeing what the pie/poetry oracle of her book gave back to them. She wrote the poems hoping that the readers would see themselves reflected in the poems that were paired with the pies.

Nicole Hardy chose Key Lime. After which, Kate jumped in and said “I’m going to read pumpkin.”

“I love pumpkin pie!” I offered emphatically

She smiled, looked and me and said “I wish I had a recording of you saying that just like that.”

And then she read this poem to me:

Pumpkin

Contrary to popular opinion, pumpkin pie-lovers are adventurous, quizzical, good in bed and voluminously communicative. No need to ask a pumpkin-pie lover if he’ll call ahead for reservations. He’ll arrive at the restaurant early, order a drink and have the waitstaff in his fan club before you get off work, By the time you arrive he might even have the hostess’s number. Do not trust him to say the right thing to your parents; do trust him to charm your friends. Consider for a moment a can of Libby’s pumpkin puree, how a pumpkin does not have a choice, but if it did, it could become a porchlight or smear on the street. It could be hollowed and hallowed and filled with soup and served in a bistro to people who do not smash pumpkins. It could rot, unsold, in the field, or fill this can of future pie. Do you see now why pumpkin pie is not boring? If it were, more people would know how to talk to bartenders.

Illustration by Jessica Lynn Bonin

I saw myself in both the poem and the pie and I couldn’t stop grinning.

I love meeting the authors behind the books. I can tell you stories about sitting at the Farmhouse Table with Gloria Steinem and being so nervous, I thought I’d never be able to stand up again. Or the time Karen Joy Fowler recalled how her daughter would walk her pet tumbleweed around the neighborhood. And how I would later put aubergine streaks in my hair so I looked more rebellious while reading a character from her new novel.

Sitting in Kate Lebo’s reading was the first time I truly realized what care an author takes with her words that will ultimately (hopefully) become a book. She chooses them carefully, like ingredients, placing them in the right order, taking them to the right publisher and when everything is over, there is a book, signed by the author, just for you. Uniquely yours. As though you had ordered it at a diner. A la mode.

This piece was originally posted to the Hedgebrook Farmhouse Table Blog and can be accessed here.

NaPoWriMo Catch-Up, Courtesy of Hedgebrook

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Hedgebrook, Karen Finneyfrock, NaPoWriMo, Sue Ennis, Whidbey

I had the amazing opportunity to attend writing workshops at the Hedgebrook Spring Salon today. If you live near Seattle or Whidbey Island, I HIGHLY recommend these day-long salons for women writers. You get to go deep into your writing with like-minded individuals. It’s quite stimulating and inspiring. And I’m counting these pieces that I’m sharing as enough writing to be caught up for NaPoWriMo.

My first class was with Karen Finneyfrock and was called “The Writer’s Spring Cleaning: Let the Fresh Air In.” Here’s some of what I wrote in that class:

Again, I Am Asked If I Am A Writer

I walk the paths of the 48 acres
with a golden labradoodle as my sidekick.
She smells earth, eats grass and lopes
along on the gravel road ahead.

There are writers in the cottages.
I don’t want to disturb them.
My sidekick finds an oversized
black feather that was once attached to a crow.

Our sojourn from the office to the woods
and back again takes thirty minutes.
I pour water into a large metal bowl,
bend to set it down, and the dog eagerly drinks.

Her long and friendly tongue laps up the cool sustenance.
This is the aim of life: to wanter and sniff things out
until they become uninteresting, then switch paths,
stopping to rest and recharge.

I am loathe to plug back in
to the hypnotizing glow of my macbook.
It is a necessary meditation, because
Hedgebrook is a verb as well as a noun
and people need to know about both.

My place is at the corners of the cottages,
looking in and reporting out,
broadcasting utopia to the masses.
(Hoping someday to reside inside, briefly.)
So, well, I mean, kind of, sometimes, yes.
Jewel Theatre, Center for the Arts, Luther College, Decorah, Iowa.

 

1.) Don’t major in theatre

The building and the theatre
didn’t yet exist when I
visited campus as a
16 year old high school junior.
We were crammed instead
into a conference room,
all perspective students
all possibly theatre majors.
The parents looked relieved
when the professor said:
“If you can do anything
else, do it. Theatre is a
not a vocation for the
faint of heart.”
I scowled into my
notebook. There was
promise in that land
out of which the Jewel
Theatre would be built,
uncovered, and polished.

2.) How to pray in a theatre

The empty space is holier
than church. You are an
actor. You fill it with
sound and fury, signifying
everything. You’ll need
two copies of a headshot
and resume and two contrasting
monologues: one comedic,
one tragic, one classical,
one modern–mix and match.
As you wait to audition,
recite the lines in your
head, make sure you’re
memorized by sliding
the beads around so
they come back and touch
each other. Rehearsal
is high mass and every
time a play is produced,
another angel dances and
recites a hail mary before
diving into the Riverside
Shakespeare. Be fearless,
take notes, meditate.
Come a full hour
before call time so
no one else is around
and sense the possibility.

 

 

3.) Calling the perfect show

The stage manager is God.
A director can nervously pace
in the wings (if he knows what’s
good for him.) But all hinges
on the stage manager in the booth
calling a tight show.
Light cues have numbers.
Sound cues have letters.
“Warning L23.” (breath. breath. breath)
“L23 GO.”
If the stage manager
is skilled enough,
the show becomes a rocket ship
carefully guided through
space and time
and the performances
are elevated, transcendent–
and the actors are astronauts.

4.) Framed in light bulbs

The dressing room
is where we transform.
College students come in
and fully realized characters
by Brecht, Durang, and
Wasserstein come out.
We are hippies and whores.
We tease our hair
and spread foundation
on our faces like butter:
a thick mast
so we are no longer ourselves.
Our makeup stations
set up like
Picasso’s palette,
creating something
sublime and deranged.

 

5.) Before the lights come up

Breathe deeply.
Step away from yourself.
Become the character.
Squeeze the hand of
your scene partner
(and try not to fall in love.)
Adjust your corset.
Peak from behind
the curtain.
(It’s a good house.)
Go through
all your rituals
in rapid succession.
Savoring what is about to unfold,
treating every beat
as though it has never
happened before,
as though you are
being baptized in the
story for the first time
like the audience.
Hold the space.
Complete the transformation.
Ignite the flame.

In the afternoon, I took the songwriting workshop, led by Sue Ennis. She, Anastasia Brencick, and I wrote a song together! It’s called “Cravings.” Here are the lyrics!

I wish that I could tell you
Delicate profanities
I taste cherries in my mouth
Infatuation: an incurable disease.

I see something behind your eyes
Let me tell you what you’re thinking
I’m the greatest thing you’ve ever seen
You’re going down, you’re sinking.

You can’t breath without inhaling me
And when you finally do
The air between our lips escapes
and whispers I want you.

Craving without tasting
Wanting to be devoured
Offer up your salty flesh
Sweet indulgence by the hour

My Top 10 Reasons to Attend the Hedgebrook Spring Salon

Tags

Hedgebrook, Whidbey, women, writing

The Hedgebrook garden.

The Hedgebrook Spring Salon is on April 27–here are some reasons why you (yes, you!) should attend!

 

1. You’re a writer who needs a kick in the seat of her pants to slough off the winter grey and infuse your writing with sunshine.

2. Secretly, you wished you wrote 50 Shades of Grey and will greatly benefit from an erotica workshop with Jennifer D. Munro.

3. You want to unleash your inner rock star and will greatly benefit from studying songwriting with Sue Ennis (she writes songs for Heart, people!)

4. You’re an actress who has a play inside of you, waiting to be written. Amy Wheeler can help you with that. She’s a pro.

5. You’ve dreamt of participating in a poetry slam. Karen Finneyfrock is a superhero on this front and will help you let the fresh air into your poetry and other writing.

6. The food. It’s HEDGEBROOK food. Which means it’s extra delicious because Denise made it.

7. The open mic at the end of the day. I laugh and cry every time–it’s magical to hear writers read their work after experiencing the transformative power of mere hours at the retreat.

8. The wine that goes with open mic.

9. The opportunity to be in community and conversation with other like-minded, local women writers. Network and build your tribe.

10. Because you deserve it. Nurture the writer within yourself with the radical hospitality Hedgebrook has to offer and she will do cartwheels and write some of the most profound work you have ever come up with. I promise.

Register Now: http://www.hedgebrook.org/page.php?pageid=125

The Joy of Women Who Eat

Tags

food, Hedgebrook, Pioneer Square, Whidbey, women, writing

One of the many fabulous spreads I have enjoyed since I started working for Hedgebrook.

I am sitting at a coffeeshop and catching up on some work.  On the way to the coffeehouse, the idea for this post came to me: writing about how awesome it is to be in the company of women who like to eat.  I mean really eat.

I am not talking about grabbing coffee or tea with friends and sharing a pastry.  Or having soup and salad with a friend and feeling vaguely virtuous afterwards.

I am talking about the joy of watching Kelsye, my co-worker, attack a meatball, turkey and bacon sandwich which dwarfed her small frame.  Or at Hedgebrook staff meetings where we take the first bite of whatever Denise has made us (her mac and cheese and enchiladas are my favorites). That first bite where all the women emit a visceral “Oh my GAWD this is so good!!!!” whether it’s audible or not.  (Sometimes that feeling comes out in a sigh of relief and appreciation, barely louder than a whisper.)

At Hedgebrook, you EAT.  You EAT with WOMEN.  Powerful women. Soulful women.  Intelligent women.  Irreverent women.  Women who have won Pulitzer Prizes.  Women whose writing you watch on television the next day.  Revolutionary women. Women who make you take stock of who you are, what are you doing to make the world a better place, what are you eating and the company you keep when you are eating.

When you are hired at Hedgebrook, I feel that part of the orientation should include an overview of feminist literature and a food and wine primer.  I am the youngest person on staff and still learning.  But one thing is for sure, when you work at Hedgebrook, you are surrounded by feminism and foodies.

Sometimes I work at the retreat on Whidbey, but most of my time is spent in our Seattle office.  No worries–we eat there, too.  In Pioneer Square, if you’re willing to hoof it a few blocks, you can get almost any kind of cuisine.  I have been lovingly introduced to spicy chicken pho and Beard Papa’s cream puffs at Uwajimaya.  One day the three of us walked almost all the way to Pike Place Market to a store that will cover almost anything in chocolate, only to realize on the way back that there was an identical store three blocks away from the office.

I love my co-workers, because we are instantly able to create a farmhouse kitchen table wherever we choose to eat lunch.  We immediately switch gears from talking about Twitter and databases to talking about preschools, favorite places to eat, where we all like to shop, pets, family…the list is endless.  But I love that we are able to switch from head-talk to heart-talk.  And eat good food while laughing and smiling.

Whether or not we acknowledge it, there is a collective mindset of nurturing our small but mighty satellite hive as well as filling our stomachs with warm, delicious sustenance.  Once we ate at an Irish pub for lunch.  We all ordered various burgers and pulled pork sandwiches.  Two men in their 50s or 60s sat next to us, eating caesar salads and drinking two or three beers.   We were having a very animated conversation about a news item citing the lack of childcare available at the Democratic National Convention.  I don’t know if it was the subject matter or volume that they found annoying, but there was a lot of eyebrow scrunching going on at the neighboring table.  But we didn’t care.  Because we were joyfully eating in the company of other women.

I had uploaded the picture for this post and left it to simmer while I worked on other projects.  I was then interrupted by a very thin, possibly drug-addled woman  who pointed at me and yelled through the window “You, YOU are a fat, crazy, stupid bitch!  Go work out!” and then staggered off.  I was shocked.  Then I abandoned my other projects and started blogging.  I can’t help but think that woman might be happier if she ate something.

City Development Associate, Country Development Associate

Tags

Hedgebrook, Pioneer Square, Seattle, Whidbey

“Goodbye,” said the country mouse, “You do, indeed, live in a plentiful city, but I am going home where I can enjoy my dinner in peace.”  -The City Mouse and the Country Mouse

I was recently hired as Hedgebrook’s Development Associate. When I first started thinking about my career trajectory, I was certain that my focus was going to be education and programming for the arts. My undergraduate degree is in Theatre and I have always been passionate about bringing theatre to audiences of all ages. It soon became evident to me, however, that development is what actually makes me the most excited.

It is a common perception that development is about raising money. And while grant writing and fundraising are a large part of the job, at its core, development is all about relationships. I will be taking a class in resource development this summer and look forward to using what I learn to expand Hedgebrook’s reach in local, national and international communities. I cannot wait to start developing those relationships.

Hedgebrook has a unique organizational structure. There is the Whidbey Island office, located adjacent to the retreat. In addition, the marketing, communications and development office is housed in the Grand Central Building in Seattle’s Pioneer Square. I live on Whidbey Island. When I tell people about my new job, they often assume that I am going to move to Seattle.

The commute from Whidbey to Seattle may seem daunting to some, but I love it. How many people get to say that they take both a boat and a train to work? Or walk past a waterfall garden?

When asked if I prefer the Whidbey or Seattle Hedgebrook, the answer is complicated. The beautiful retreat and the core Writers in Residence program is at the heart of the organization. I am reminded of a paper I submitted for a fall quarter class, in which I likened the structure of a nonprofit to the circulatory system: “The circulatory system prevents disease and stabilizes the organism.  It keeps the life-blood flowing to the most important organ: the heart.”

The work we do in Seattle helps support Hedgbrook’s heart.  I am honored to be part of that circulatory system.  And at the end of the day, I physically get to return to the island where the heart is housed.  This is all to say that while I prefer working in the Seattle, I would rather have dinner on Whidbey.  Just like the country mouse.

 

The ferry ride from Clinton to Mukilteo. Photo: Katie Woodzick

 

Hedgebrook’s Seattle office is on the 2nd floor of the Grand Central Building in Pioneer Square. Photo: Katie Woodzick