I’ve been worried for weeks about a writer’s conference that I’ll be attending in Dallas tomorrow. It will involve switching planes, a layover in St. Louis, an airport shuttle, lack of sleep, new people to meet, intense workshops, and eventually a meeting with an editor to whom I will attempt to “pitch” my latest book.

This is high adventure for a woman who lives on a gravel road.

I am supposed to pack “business casual” clothes for the four days I’ll be there, as well as a nice dinner gown for the final evening ceremonies. This is a huge problem when my favorite ensemble consists of  jeans and worn flannel shirts picked up at the local thrift store.

I think I might finally be almost ready for this conference, though. My daughters-in-law have helped with my wardrobe selection, my computer guru son designed and printed my business cards as well as designed my website, my MBA oldest son, who hires and fires people daily, counseled me on the fine art of interviews, my English major daughter-in-law went over my manuscript with a fine-toothed comb, and my beautician, who is also a writer, gave me an especially nice haircut.

Obviously, it takes a village to get Serena ready for a writer’s conference.

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