That’s what my prep work has amounted to today. I bought pants. Actually, two pairs of pants and a shirt.
To be fair, I do have a day job. But I took a half day today because, lets be honest. My brain? Preoccupied.
And I needed new pants.
The “suggested dress code” is business casual. My business casual wardrobe consists of mainly dresses, skirts, and a pair of khaki pants I hate. I have dress slacks. I didn’t want to wear slacks. I have corduroy skinny jeans.
Corduroy skinny jeans were my plan. Black tank top, gray shirt, black flats: trendy. Cute. Hip. Whatever.
Until I checked my weather app. Yeah, it’s going to be like, 82 degrees tomorrow. Corduroy may be a step in the wrong direction.
Instead I went to Old Navy and maybe, just maybe, set myself up for disaster.
I bought white pants.
Now…I don’t think I’ve ever owned white pants. I’ve owned green stirrup pants. I’ve owned red jeans. I’ve owned neon multicolored, geometrical shaped cloth pants that I ripped a colossal hole in the butt sliding down a mount of gravel why I don’t actually remember other than the fact someone told me it was fun but neglected to tell me not to sit down.
And now I own white pants.
I tried on a pair of skinny white pants but decided no way. No. Freaking. Way. Skinny jeans terrify me anyway but add white to the mix….no. Just no. So I went with a boot cut. And I went with a size bigger than I normally wear because…well, because it just made sense at the time. Look, I wear my jeans tight. You know, to accentuate the inherent chicken-like qualities of my calves. But tight white jeans-especially that were purchased as decoy business casual-seemed like a bad idea.
Now white seems like a bad idea. In general.
I’ve got visions of spilling coffee. Dropping food. Falling out of my car and landing in a heap in a puddle of mud. These are all things that have happened. These are all things I do not need to have happen prior to and/or during the conference.
Other than potentially forgetting I’ll be wearing white pants and putting on neon pink underpants or something equally horrific, I’m not as anxious as I thought I’d be. Maybe it’s because my brain says, “Hey. It’s too late now!” I’ve prepared. I’ve got my query letter ready to go. Got the sample chapters of my novel ready. Got my business cards ready. Got my workshops picked out. And I’ve got my Big Purse out so I can not only bring all my writing paraphernalia, but a peanut butter and Nutella sandwich. And snacks.
So, Friday is the pitch sessions. Saturday is the announcement of who won the writing contests. I’ve edited my submission (my first chapter) four times since I sent it in, so I don’t expect to win. But who knows. Stranger things have happened.
I’m stoked, guys! Wish me luck!