That’s a bold claim, you say. Who even is Jeff Goins, you say.

I know it’s a bold claim. And I’ll tell you.

First off,  I’m not dead. This may come as a surprise, since it’s been around a year since I posted. [Where’s Leo? you say. Hang on a minute, Old Sport.]

I’ve been to college and stuff. In fact, this post comes to you directly from a computer in the campus library.

 

A brief history of my year:

-Went to college. Yay!

-Met some fantastic yahoos. Double yay!

-Stopped writing. Not so yay.

 

Thinking of Leo and getting rather impatient, you feel inclined to comment, But Victoria, you realize you’re, um, writing …

Aha! That’s where Leo comes in. Because the only thing I could think of to compare myself to is the movie The Revenant.

A revenant, you see, is a person who has returned from the nether world. And, as far as I’m concerned, a world without writing is nether indeed.

My Leo Moment (and also an explanation of this Jeff person)

 

Naturally, I’d been feeling pretty dead as a writer. When a true passion is choked by the one who should be its greatest advocate, that is betrayal, and something must be done.

So, this past weekend, I attended the Tribe Conference in Franklin, Tennessee. Guess who headed it up? No, not Mr. DiCaprio. Try again.

 

The conference is for writers of all types. Composers, novelists, inspirational bloggers, entrepreneurs, artist ilk.

I was massively pumped. You see, two years ago, I went to the first-ever Tribe Conference as a frightened/overconfident/excited/slightly obnoxious 16-year-old with an 88K-word document I wanted to publish. To be perfectly cliche, it rocked my world. Six months later, I was a published author.

So you could say that, this year, my expectations were kinda sorta up there.

 

The first night I was there, I had a lovely conversation with a lovely woman named Rachel Bagby. She said she composed music. Lived on a farm. Twenty minutes in, and I had already made a fascinating friend. Then the conference kicked off, and she was one of the first speakers. *Insert image of exploding brain*

That’s what I love about the Tribe community: the exquisite openness, down-to-earth attitude, and childlike hope that unites it.

Of course, that was only the beginning. There was also Marsha of Yes Yes Marsha, the hilarious and heartfelt woman in high heels telling us all in her British accent how not to be awkward.

There was Sean McCabe, the gentle but formidable artist who made his way in the world, after two years of intense practice, by selling courses on the art of hand-lettering.

There was Jessica Peterson, the event photographer, who is, quite truly, one of the best painters I have ever met.

And lots and lots and lots more equally unique, wonderful, amazing people, who, tragically, I have not the word count to discuss at length. All of them with a different but practical process for making a living off their writing. Profound transparency. Beautiful generosity. SO MUCH SAVORY INFO FOR A CHRONICALLY HOPEFUL COLLEGE STUDENT or anyone, for that matter.

Skip down to the one you’ve been waiting to hear about:

 

Jeff Goins.

 

Just the man responsible for the gathering of this glorious conglomeration of neon creativity. That’s all.

God blessed the world when He made Jeff Goins. Seriously.

After this weekend, I have the fight back in me. I spent a good class period, today, actually, scheduling the writing, editing, marketing, and publishing of my next four novels.

I wrote a post for the first time in over a year. Make of it what you please.

 

I’ve already purchased tickets for next year’s Tribe. Yes, I’m a college kid, and yes, that’s a lot of money for a college kid, but it’s an investment I’m willing to make. 110% willing.

 

So there you have it. Leonardo DiCaprio never did that for me. That is all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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