I connected with nearby attendants sporting a familiar, daunted stare. “What do you write about?” I was surprised that’s all it took. The knot in my shoulders untied as I found a common ground. Knowing everyone harbored similar dreams and goals made the rest of the conference as comfortable as a blue-sky summer cook-out with family laughing around the smoky charcoal grill. A blur of casual meals, miniaturized think-tank’s and rickety train rides to and from Boston became the patchwork of memories I took from this highly sought after collection of experts and future experts. Of all the workshops I wondered which would improve my writing. A mother from the suburbs I spoke with questioned if she could write her book. Everyone that pitched dwelled on their flights home if the agents would offer a contract. Really, we were all seeking hope. And I believe this conference is where we found it.