Last February, I was a participant at the San Francisco Writers Conference, where I met lots and lots of people, but three people in particular: Katharine “Kit” Kerr, Alex Tillson, and Clint Talbert. Though it would probably surprise at least two of them to hear it, all three of them led me to great epiphanies about my writing this year.

For a magical hour or two, Katharine, the wonderful Philippa Ballantine, and I got an opportunity to sit down together in the quiet presenters’ lounge and talk long and passionately about writing. Technically, we were planning out what we would cover in our panel on fantasy. After the panel ended, and because she had time before the next appearance on her schedule, I invited Kit, on a lark, to come and sit with me on the editor/author 10-minute consultations I was doing. The two of us sat and evaluated first-pages of a bunch of manuscripts, encouraged a bunch of nervous authors (perhaps more nervous, for finding her there — surprise!), and we found a great synergy and bond between us as we did so. She picked out things I agreed with completely but wouldn’t have caught at a glance. Between that chat and those sessions, I think I learned even more than our authors did.

Clint Talbert is a promising writer who has become a good friend. Months later, we were talking and I mentioned that I feel selfish when I write; I have a hard time taking time away from my other work, on other people’s manuscripts which have contracts and deadlines and things, to write something of my own. He reminded me that every writer, no matter what their other work is, faces the same problem. I knew that, as an editor and advice-giver, but I hadn’t internalized it until he said it to me. You just have to make time for yourself, and write, just like everybody else. And since then, I have.

It was August, and I was musing about how to turn a particular one of my short stories into a novel, when Alex Tillson gave me possibly the simplest and most profound piece of writing advice I’ve ever received. She said, “Look at the decisions your characters have had to make [in the short story]. What can happen now that would turn those choices into the worst decisions they could have possibly made?” And that was the answer. So simple, and so brilliant. That’s where the plot was hiding. And it’s helped me craft every story since.

Last year, I posted about the fantastic experience I had at the San Francisco Writers Conference. This year’s conference, February 18-20 at the fabulous Mark Hopkins Hotel, promises to be even more exciting than last year’s.

My brilliant intern, Xander Briggs, will be on-hand to experience the whirlwind networking and editorial sessions with me. I’m really looking forward to this — we’ve been writing partners for years, but this will be the first time we’re actually meeting.

I’m also going to be presenting a post-conference half-day session with two fantastic authors: Philippa Ballantine and bestseller Katharine Kerr.

If you can’t make it to the SFWC, you can still take advantage of its online partner, San Francisco Writers University. There, you can network with other writers, editors, and agents. Free and premium audio courses are available for download.

If you haven’t heard me share enough query letter advice on this blog, you can download my 30-minute premium lecture on “What You Need to Know Before (and after) You Send Your Query Letter.” The link is here. (Free registration is required to see the course info page.)

Thanks to the wonderful Laurie McLean and the rest of the Larsen-Pomada Literary Agency, I had the fortune to spend my weekend at the San Francisco Writers Conference as an independent editor. For two days, my job was to advise writers in one-on-one sessions.

The catch? The sessions were only five minutes long.

Sign-up sheets were posted with each editor’s name and genre, and each attendee could sign up for a session with the editor of their choice. They could use the time to get a critique on their pitch, to get a critique on their first page, to ask questions… however they wanted to make the best use of their time.

For an extra $50, attendees could register for Sunday’s “speed-dating with the agents” session. That meant that their pitches had to be as refined as possible before Sunday. The five-minute sessions on Friday and Saturday were largely preparation for that. Writers had five minutes with us, but they only had three minutes with each agent. With just three minutes to get someone hooked, every moment counts.

I spoke with about twenty writers on Friday, and about thirty on Saturday. It was a whirlwind. It was dizzying. It was also incredibly rewarding.

I was the first editor to arrive, being the compulsively early type that I am, so I staked out the window table with the great view. It also happened to be the table in direct view of the door. My sign-in sheet said “YA, Fantasy, SF” but I also ended up speaking to writers of women’s lit, literary fiction, children’s fiction, short fiction, non-fiction essays… and each session was equally constructive, regardless of genre.

I could tell you fifty stories, one from each of those fifty quick sessions, and about forty of them would involve that amazing click of pieces falling into place. Some of them would involve even more rewarding epiphanies. A few might make their way into future blog posts (with the writers’ permissions), so stay tuned.

Most of the writers wanted to refine their pitches. Some of them had something already written and just needed feedback and a couple of word-choice recommendations. Some of them spent two or three minutes telling me what they had written about, in rambling, meandering language, and then I helped them pull out the most important points from what they’d just said. Three-minute explanations were quickly honed into thirty-second pitches: intriguing ideas expressed with powerful, evocative words.

A woman who sat down with a concern about how to market a collection of short stories with no cohesive theme, stood up five minutes later awed by the realization that there had been a linking thread between her stories all along — and a strong, intriguing one, at that.

Some of the writers wanted to know which genre or market I thought their manuscripts would best fit. Many asked me about the difference between middle grade and young adult. I drew heavily on this post by author Adrienne Kress, recommended reading for anyone else who might be curious about the answer.

For questions about the other edge of YA, I found myself referring writers to Scholastic’s Push imprint. Push prints some of the edgiest YA I’ve read — harsh, gritty, unapologetic and real. Murder, drug use, homelessness, pyromania, self-injury, sexual abuse… If you want to see how rough YA can get, read a few Push novels. I personally recommend starting with anything by my former colleague Brian James (gratuitous link to a review of his book DIRTY LIAR) and going from there.

Many asked me if I thought their concepts were viable. If the ideas sounded like a tough sell, we discussed how to slant the pitch or revise the content to make it more compelling.

I critiqued several first pages. I pointed out improbable simultaneous action, awkward dialogue, shifting perspective, punctuation, grammar and spelling issues; I discussed character voice, tone, age-appropriate vocabulary levels and whether the first line and choice of opening scene were compelling.

I discussed the “rules” of writing and when — and how — it’s acceptable to break them.

I loved the challenge of it, and the thrill of each success. But the real reward was the feedback. It felt great to be able to provide so much constructive advice to writers, especially in such a short time, and hear them tell me how helpful our few minutes of conversation had been. They were all so passionate, so focused and so ambitious that their energy was contagious and cumulative. By the end of each day I was exhausted and drained, but I still wanted to do more.

I had Sunday free to wander, so I checked back with some of the writers I’d spoken to. All of them reported nibbles; some reported larger bites. All of them were confident about their pitches and pleased with how the sessions had gone.

If you’re at a stage where you’re ready to show your writing to people in high places, and if you have the financial means to attend, I strongly recommend adding SFWC to your plans for 2011.

In addition to the agent and editor consultations, there are presentations and group sessions on a wide range of helpful topics. There are amazing networking opportunities and there’s time to explore some of the beauty and history of San Francisco. Space is limited and the conference sells out quickly, so if it’s the sort of opportunity that you think might benefit you, start thinking about it now.

And don’t think that this is a “mainstream fiction only” sort of event. It isn’t! Fiction, non-fiction, memoir, how-to, travel, romance, fantasy, science fiction, children’s, suspense, poetry… and I know for a fact that SF/F will be even more strongly represented next year. No matter your genre, if you’re ready to be published, there are people here who are ready to meet you.

I’ve been invited to participate in the San Francisco Writers Conference, February 12-14 in downtown San Francisco.

I’ll be attending as an independent editor, giving one-on-one consultations with writers and participating in an “Ask a pro” session with other editors and agents.

The conference is in its 7th year, and is a great opportunity for writers to meet and network with industry professionals.