I’m a mutt, really, but a big part of my mutt-ness is Irish.  My family never really embraced our heritage because it was no big deal.  Most people in East Tennessee are Scots-Irish, so it was never anything special until I went away to college.

When I was an undergraduate, my closest friends were Hispanic-Navajo-Irish-American, Vietnamese-American, German-American, African-Irish-American, Scots-Irish-American, and British American.  Being around such diversity made me appreciate my own heritage a little more, and I studied a little of the history of Ireland.  I’m not a scholar by any stretch, and my understanding of Irish history is more like a faint mist than anything solid, but I’m proud of that part of my lineage.

I’ll leave it to others to debate the complexities of St. Patrick’s Day.  I’m not interested in unraveling the centuries of turmoil and oppression that have plagued the island.  I am interested in healing old wounds and reconciling old schisms.  On St. Patrick’s Day, everyone wishes they were Irish, and not many other cultures have a day devoted just to them.  Those of us with Irish blood should hold ourselves high and feel proud on this day.  We have a tremendous cultural history and long-standing traditions as teachers, firefighters, police officers, writers, artists, and musicians.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, everyone.  “May you live as long as you want and never want as long as you live.”

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One of the things I despised about graduate school was the pettiness.  Everyone there, myself included, was so desperate to prove their intelligence and their ability that we had no sense of camaraderie or community.  Most of my professors were even worse than the students.  Most had long given up their authenticity and had settled into comfortable positions of stifled creativity.  I left graduate school in Memphis feeling like I was a talentless wannabe who had no voice worth sharing.  Now, as an educator, I can honestly say that graduate school for me was the opposite of what education should be.  Instead of bringing out my best, it tried to snuff out my spirit.

Last weekend, I returned to Memphis as a published novelist, albeit an independent, with two books on the market, and I was surrounded by other writers, artists, musicians, and creative people.  At the convention, we shared ideas, hung out, laughed, cut up, played jokes, and had fun.  Sure, there were moments of pettiness and occasional pockets of jealousy, but those were the exception.  For the most part, every convention I’ve attended has been a celebration of creativity and art that leaves me feeling rejuvenated.  By far, the majority of other writers I’ve met are supportive and encouraging, and at nearly every show, I’ve shared ideas and learned something about the craft and business of writing.

That’s why I love conventions.  They give me something that graduate school never did — a sense of community.  Eleven years ago, I left Memphis with a broken spirit and a crushed self-esteem.  Sunday, I left with a feeling that I’m doing what I’m meant to do, and that feeling was a much better, much healthier state of mind.  One day, I may finally let go of my anger and pain from what graduate school did to me, but for now, I’ll settle for this feeling.  Life is beautiful.

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The weekend trip to MidSouthCon in Memphis was great.  My only complaint is that I didn’t get to come earlier and stay longer to visit the city a little more.  Anyone who has lived there will know what I mean when I say that even though it’s a hard place to live, it’s an enchanting city that stirs my creative juices and recharges my batteries.  I couldn’t live there again, but visiting every year is cool.

The convention was terrific this year.  I don’t want to thank any individual for fear of forgetting someone important, but the show was definitely the best year I’ve attended, so thank you to everyone who played a part in putting it together.  I loved being on my panels with so many talented, creative people, and I loved the quality of the audience members who challenged us to meet their expectations.  Each year, I leave MidSouthCon feeling more validated in my writing career, and that’s a nice feeling to have.

This year also marked a first for Third Axe Media and myself.  This was the first time we sold more copies of Red Sky at Dawn than The Brotherhood of Dwarves at an individual event, and overall, sales were pretty strong.  That’s a pretty big milestone and signifies that people liked the first book well enough to get the second, and while it has taken some time to get to this point, it’s definitely a nice moment to enjoy.  I’m still a long way from where I want to be, but it’s nice to see some movement in the right direction.

One last thought about the weekend — I got to spend a lot of time with my good friend Stephen Zimmer.  He’s a fascinating guy and very talented in many facets.  I’m glad he introduced himself  at Hypericon last year and am grateful for his friendship.  He’s just a good person all around, and I’m lucky to count him as a friend.

www.thirdaxe.com