When pigs fly. A decade or so ago I’d have answered exactly that if you’d asked me when I’d attend a conference with masses of strangers weilding cameras, tip-tapping laptops. Labeled by lanyards.
Hanging with hundreds of tweeting foodies would not have appealed to younger, indie-minded me. And now it does because the world has changed. Socialising has changed.
Our stories (and the ways we tell stories) shift and shimmer. They reflect and refract the time and place that grew them. Kinda like food and wine: soil and sun.
So when I saw that the 2014 IFBC, International Food Blogger’s Conference, was happening in Seattle this September I signed up. I figured I’d meet some fellow foodcentric, beverage-lovin’ people.
There’d be snacks, samples, wine tastings and seminars on stuff I’m always trying to get an edge on like SEO. Knowledge: bring it.
The sponsors look cool. I know some of the brands that will be there and I’m about to meet the ones I don’t know. There are gonna be gift bags, son. I like gift bags.
And I qualified for a discounted ticket to IFBC by agreeing to write three posts on a topic of my choice related to the weekend-long foodcentric, wine-fueled frenzy. I can do that and actually I should do that as a writer. I take a long time to produce some of my posts. So I signed up and decided to use the event as a writing challenge for myself. Kinda seemed like a win win win situation with snacks and wine.
I’m in and I’m amped.
I’ll be tweeting about this year’s IFBC in Seattle, city of champions. I’ll post photos on Instagram and write about it here through the weekend because I’m modern like that. It’s going to be a fun experience. And I’ll tell you the rest of this story as it happens. It’s like we’re going handheld or something.
If you see me hanging about the IFBC conference then please oink at me. I’ll oink back or do jazzhands. Your choice.