On Saturday, I was honored with the Sara J. Larson Award at the tenth (and likely final) Mo*Con. I didn’t know about the award in advance, and I’m still a bit choked up. The award’s namesake was a beloved member of my writing family, gone far too early, and I still feel her impact on my work.
I feel the same way about Mo*Con.
The gathering Maurice Broaddus organized ten years ago grew into something much greater than a yearly convention. Mo*Con became a place where differences could be bridged, where friendships could be forged, and where family could be found. In that way, it became the conversation Maurice always dreamed it would be.
If you can’t tell, I already miss it.
Looking around the room on Saturday, award in hand, I couldn’t help but think of something Kurt Vonnegut’s uncle used to say to him.
If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.
