A writers conference was basically a trade show.

The curse of trade corrupts everything it touches, Thoreau said. Though you trade in messages from heaven.

Writers come to sell their work, or find out how to sell their work.

Editors and agents come to tell writers how to sell their work. They don't tell them for free. They get a commission.

They sell advice.

Advice, 5¢. Snap out of it.

You are being bamboozled.

You are being hoodwinked.

Ask a barber what you need, he'll say, "A haircut."

The motto of the Large Pyle School of Fiction Writing was, "Will write for food, will write for free, will pay to write."

If you're not ready to pay to write you're asking the wrong questions.

Or you're asking the wrong person.

Ask someone with a foot-long dick.

Ask a porn star. How do I make money writing?

Well, it depends.

How bad do you want it?

To what lengths will you go?

Ha ha, no one wants that.

They want innocence, purity, purity of heart is to do one thing.

Go home and write.

You have a responsibility to eternity.

What are you doing here?