On Saturday, May 5, the Calgary Association of the Romance Writers of America hosted a workshop by the fantabulous Damon Suede.
We spent the morning talking about characters and Damon’s unique way of aligning them with verbs and using this technique to plot (I won’t attempt to paraphrase this: it’s quite brilliant, and if you want more, check out his website), and the afternoon on dialogue and then on crafting blurbs, loglines, hooks, and elevator pitches.
My brain still hurts, but it was all so good, and I am so grateful to Damon being so generous with his knowledge, and I can’t wait to hang with him again in New Orleans at the Booklovers Convention.
If you have no idea who Damon Suede is, please let me introduce you:
Damon Suede grew up out-n-proud deep in the anus of right-wing America, and escaped as soon as it was legal. He has lived all over: Houston, New York, London, Prague. Along the way, he’s earned his crust as a model, a messenger, a promoter, a programmer, a sculptor, a singer, a stripper, a bookkeeper, a bartender, a techie, a teacher, a director… but writing has ever been his bread and butter. He has been happily partnered for over a decade with the most loving, handsome, shrewd, hilarious, noble man to walk this planet.
Addictions: sweetness that isn’t sentimental, wit that isn’t bitter, strength that isn’t cruel. Allergies: professional victims, half-assery, clichés. Damon is a proud member of the Romance Writers of Americaand currently serves on its national Board of Directors. He also served as the 2013 president for theRainbow Romance Writers, RWA’s LGBT romance chapter.
Damon has been writing for print, stage, and screen for almost three decades, which is both more and less glamorous than you might imagine. He’s won some awards, but his blessings are more numerous: his amazing friends, his demented family, his beautiful husband, his loyal fans, and his silly, stern, seductive Muse who keeps whispering in his ear, year after year.
Here’s me at the hotel bar afterwards (photo by Jillie Jaxx):
I’m not hung-over, I’m jet lagged.
mjanecolette
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