I attended my second Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop (EBWW) earlier this month and had a grand time. It was quite a collection of folks — returnees, newbies (newbees?), authors of great renown (Anna Quindlen and Jacquelyn Mitchard among them), authors of lesser renown (clears throat), and those who are working up the gumption to get that first book/short story/blog post up and out into the universe.
I played a very (very) small role beyond just being an attendee: I was asked to participate in a kicking-things-off session for first-timers, making a brief presentation regarding my prior workshop’s impact on my writing and sharing a few tips for those about to launch into their first “Erma.”
I also made a short appearance at the end of Friday’s lunch (right after a keynote speech by Zibby Owens, who is a publishing empire practically all by herself), via video, as part of a series where those featured were asked to provide one word to encapsulate their prior experience at the workshop:
After returning home, I wrote a short piece about this most recent experience, which you’ll find after one more sentence. For all you writers and writer-wannabees: mark March 26-28, 2026 on your calendar, which is when the next EBWW is scheduled, and weigh the merits of flying into modest Dayton, Ohio (where the workshop is held) vs. the teeming metropolis of Cincinnati (one hour’s drive away).
Laughing Matters (April 10, 2024)
While EBWW bills itself as a humor writing workshop, not all who attend are humor writers (or, at least, not exclusively); while there’s also a strong focus on memoir, there are folks there who are working on a variety of projects, in a slew of genres (travel, children, YA, advice, many others), and in a gaggle of formats (books, blogs, podcasts, plays, stand-up among them). This time through, there were sessions touching on a wide swath of topics: the craft of writing, getting published, marketing, social media. Also, as the piece linked to above points out — there’s plenty of cake and a cash bar.
Just a couple of additional new posts since the last newsletter.
Once in a Limited Lifetime (April 15, 2024)
As a retired person, I have all the time in the world to pursue slights (both real and imagined) against various corporations.
Jury Up April 19, 2024
You know how the Hollywood studios announce the release of a movie has been delayed until a date so far in the future you think you won’t be alive to see it? I’ve felt the same way about the various Trump trials — but at long last, we are on the precipice of one finally getting underway.
I know I’ve mentioned a few times a concept for my new book. At long last I can announce: I’ve decided to scrap it. Just wasn’t coming together the way I’d anticipated. I’ve repurposed some of the proposed content, and in the meantime I’m thinking thinking thinking about what my new approach is going to be. Of course, I really should be writing writing writing. It will happen.
A friend of mine had a book signing the other week, and Carol and I drove to Portland to see her and get an autographed copy. It turns out the event was held at a bookstore that I’d contacted last year about hosting me for a similar event — which the owner wasn’t willing to commit to, but she *was* willing to order a copy of my book. I filed it away under “Well, I tried,” but then, when I found myself in the store for my friend’s signing, I introduced myself to the owner and found out — that one copy had sold! And now she was willing to order a second copy! Untold riches in my future!
Anyway — keeping this newsletter short and sweet (I hope). Back atcha before too much more time passes with (I hope) some concrete steps toward my next middling success.
Best to you and yours,
JB
(Please feel free to share this newsletter! Please feel free to buy my books! Please feel free to be your authentic self — hopefully while sharing my newsletter and buying my books!)
I had plans to go if I won first prize, and if they’d pay to Uber me to Dayton (I won honorable mention, and there was still the problem of what to do with my dog) so that particular fantasy of an all-expenses-paid trip to sunny, tropical Dayton evaporated. But there’s always 2026, if Lindsey Roth gets writers’ block.