As it turns out, there was a local writing conference held every year at the university where my daughter Lina got her degree (East Texas Baptist University). It was very affordable and within easy commuting distance, so no hotel room or airfare was needed.
This conference was short—just a day and a half, but it had some great classes. I broke my rule of three and attended four times, the last time as an instructor. I taught their first and only speculative fiction class. This conference had a kind of scattershot approach, with classes on everything from writing devotionals to screenplays. I always walked away with something new and helpful. My final time at this conference, I took a class on poetry that fed my soul and got me writing poems again, and for that I am still grateful.
I also won a couple of writing contests put on by this conference, which is a nice thing to have on one’s resume.
The appointments available were not really of interest to me, but that was okay. I went to learn and rub shoulders with other writers and enjoyed it immensely. After the fourth time I went, the conference was discontinued, much to my dismay, because otherwise I would have continued going. It was an unbeatable value.