GCLS 2017 Recap

rachelspangler • August 9, 2017

I know I haven’t blogged in ages, and I have lots of excuses for that, but they are mostly boring, so let’s skip that part and say I’m sorry as we move on to what I’ve been up to!

As usual, the Spangler family has been in full travel mode this summer with trips to Kansas city (Susie’s work), Chicago (my work), Lake Puslinch, Canada (family), and Central Illinois (family).

I won’t bore you with all the work and family details, but I’ll show you this picture of my adorable nephew because I love to show him off,

and this one of my nephew kissing Jackson because I love how much they love each other.

Now I will put on my author hat and update you on my trip to the Golden Crown Literary Society’s annual conference, because that was both work and play at the same time.

There are so many reasons why I love attending the GCLS con each year, and this year was no exception. Between readings and workshops and book talks, I went non-stop for days.  Some of the highlights of my official responsibilities in Chicago were two fantastic panels I got to be a part of.

The first was a panel in which authors of faith talked about our experiences being gay in our faith communities,  our experiences of being people of faith in the gay community, and how that lens affects who we are as artists. The panel consisted of Nell Stark , Georgia Beers , Alison Solomon , Rachel Gold , and myself.  Aurora Rey moderated.  I know I’m probably biased, but I thought the conversation was open, frank, and affirming, both on behalf of my fellow panelists and the audience members. The feedback we got from other conference attendees suggested this topic is one we should be exploring a lot more in our communities.

The other panel I got to take part in was on the editorial relationship, alongside  Melissa Brayden , Georgia Beers , Susan X Meager , and the woman brave enough to edit all four of us, Lynda Sandoval.  Nikki Smalls was the moderator crazy enough to moderate.  This panel was tons of fun as we focused less on the nuts and bolts of editing craft, and more on the types of relationships that lead to productive teamwork between authors and editors.  Also, we laughed a lot, which might, in fact, be one of those relationship keys!

Then in addition to my author work at the conference, I also got to wear my social media director hat as I interacted with my wonderful Bywater colleagues. We have occasionally joked that trying to wrangle everyone’s events and social media accounts while juggling my own author appearances on- and offline is like herding cats, but thankfully someone snapped this great picture to show what that job actually looks like in action.

Seriously, if anyone ever asks me to come in for career day, I’m just going to send them this picture.  So much love and joy and smile-for-the-camera and gentle redirections that could turn into chiropractic adjustments if need be.

The last of my must-do’s for the conference every year is the annual awards ceremony.  I have been honored to present awards to my fellow authors for several years in a row.  This year I got to be part of the crew that presented a Goldie to my awesome friend and role mode KG MacGregor for her book Trial By Fury.

Then, shockingly enough, I ended up back on the stage after I won one of the contemporary romance awards for Perfect Pairing.  I would like to say that I made a dramatic and moving acceptance speech; however, as it had been so long since I’d won anything, I stopped writing acceptance speeches a couple of years ago.  And in my excitement, I think I managed to bumble through only a short bit of thanks that went something along the lines of Jesus, Bywater , Susie, Jackson and the GCLS readers. Not my finest moment, but I did get my picture taken with the famously awesome Susan X. Meager , who also won a Goldie in the Romance Category.

Side note: Susan and I are both from neighboring, tiny towns in Central Illinois, so two-thirds of the  romance winners that night were from the same 15-mile stretch of farmland where they grow corn, beans, and apparently, lesbian authors!

I also got to share my awards-night fun with my friend and Bywater colleague Ann McMan , who won the prestigious Director’s Award for all the amazing graphic design work she does in service of the organization.  Here we are with our Bywater management team , Marianne K. Martin , Salem West, and Kelly Smith.

From there on out it was fun and friends as we danced the night away! What follows is a few of my favorite photos from the rest of the conference.

Here’s a shot of me with my Bywater buddies. Isn’t that an awesome group of kick-ass women?

And of course there’s my besties, Melissa Brayden and Georgia Beers , because it wouldn’t be a party without them.

This one is with my friend Jane. She won the first dance with me via the author auction, though by next year I suspect I’ll have to pay to dance with her, because I hear she’s got a book of her own in the works.

And here’s me having selfie time with the epic Nikki Smalls, who is not just a fun friend to dance with, she’s also a member of the all-volunteer board of directors who helps make GCLS the smashing success that we know and love.

And while we’re on selfies, here another, this time with one of my all time favorite funny women, Fay Jacobs, who writes not only hilarious memoirs, but also a fantastic one-woman show called Aging Gracelessly: 50 Shades of Fay.

One more selfie with the Dirt Road Books crew.  If you don’t know them, you need to be sure to check them out at https://www.dirtroadbooks.com.

Finally, one of my favorite photographs ever (thanks Brenda Barton!) is of me, Nikki, Georgia Beers , and Jackson all saying goodbye.

Someone also took a picture of Georgia and I crying while Jackson hugged us both, but this one has smiles, so let’s leave it here until we’re all together again for GCLS 2018 …in Vegas, baby!

 

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Facebook memories reminded me that we are approaching the 1 year anniversary of my stem cell donation. On June 1st of 2021, after five days of injections, I underwent a medical procedure to donate stem cells via a line in my chest. Those cells were then transferred into a cancer patient somewhere in Ohio. In addition to feeling like a high tech medical miracle, it was also a huge, awe inspiring experience for me personally, and I’ve spent the time since then feeling so proud and honored to have been in a position to so something so powerful. Then about two weeks ago I received a phone call that my recipient had passed away. I’m gutted. The news has ripped at me in ways I could not have anticipated. This is, in effect, the death of a stranger, a young woman in a different place, whose name I have never known. And now I will never know it. In some ways I don’t feel entitled to this level of grief. In so many ways she’d only ever existed for me as an idea. But we were not nothing to each other. I have prayed for her every day for almost a year, and now I pray for her family. I have wondered and worried over her. I have woken up in the middle of long nights and on Christmas morning thinking about her. Every time I notice the little scar on my chest where the line went into my body, I have felt her with me. Still, I did not know her. And I never will. When the transplant coordinator called, she broke the news quickly, then she said that she needed one more thing from me. She wondered if I might release my remaining stem cells to researchers. I was still a bit rocked back from the start of the conversation, and this request confused me. She explained that there were some cells left over after the transfusion, and they still belonged to me. Legally and ethically, those cells, even after they left my body, are a part of me, and no one can do anything to those extensions of my body without my releasing them. I thought about asking her if anyone had mentioned that to the Supreme Court, but I was too sad in the moment. The anger would come later, but as I’ve pondered that fact, it has helped me at least contextualize the level of grief I am feeling: A woman died with a part of me inside of her. I have tried to temper the dramatic impulse to surrender to the idea that if she died with a part of me inside her, a part of me has died as well, but I’ll admit I have gone there a time or two. What I have leaned on more frequently, though, is that despite not knowing anything other than her rough age and gender, we shared something more fundamental than names or letters. We shared stem cells, the very building blocks of what makes us who we are on a cellular level. With those cells I sent my hopes, my best impulses, my health, my love, the pieces of my blood and bones that allow me to live such a wonderful life in the hopes I could sustain her with those things. Turns out I could not. It has been two weeks of wondering if I could have done more. Fearing that my body, which I have always had a problematic relationship with, has failed me again, and this time betrayed someone else in the process. Worrying someone else paid the price of my insufficiency. Remembering loved ones I have lost to cancer, feeling that pain anew. Imagining the anguish of those who loved her as deeply as I loved the people I lost, and almost crippling empathy for the pain they are living in right now, pain I couldn’t save them from even though I tried. It’s been dark in my brain. My emotions have overwhelmed me often. Sadness ruled the first week. I burst into tears several times at inopportune moments, and cried until my face hurt. This past week anger took over. I will admit, other than a general sense of the injustice of it all, I didn’t understand where the anger came from. Then in session this week, my therapist explained that anger is a common outlet for a sense of helplessness. 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She smiled like she knew that, then gently pushed. “If one year ago someone had told you, there’s a woman in need and you will never know her. She needs the very base of your body’s building blocks, it will be a grueling process over several days that will take more out of you physically and emotionally than you had imagined, and all it will give her is 11 more months. 11 months to say what she needs to say, to hug loved ones, to try to make peace. One more Christmas, one more birthday, one more fall, and winter, and spring, but that’s all. She will be gone, and you will live on with the questions, and a connection most people will never comprehend. Would you sign up for that? The answer was yes. It is yes. If I got the same call tomorrow, the answer would be yes that day and every day after. It will always be yes. I suppose that is the through line. That’s the story. It’s part of my story, and it will be, for as long I have cells in my body…or out of it. · If your answer would be “yes” too, and you are eligible to donate, please consider registering with Be The Match , and if you aren't eligible yourself please share this information with the people in your life who might be!
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