Conference planning time reminds me of Christmas. Perhaps it’s because the planning begins around October when, life becomes a bit more twinkly. Or perhaps it’s because I get to open up a new spreadsheet and start putting together another buzzy, creative, inspiration-filled roster of sessions with which to lure people along to our next venue (Leeds Trinity in 2021, if you’re asking).

When I first started attending in 2015, the extraordinary Jan Jones was the doyenne of all things conference. And when I say all things, I literally mean all the things. She booked the speakers, the delegates, the venues (booking venues happens years in advance to make sure we get our early-July slot). She put up the signs pointing us up stairs and down corridors and around the corner to the loos. She knows where to get wine. Who can help make the microphones work (thank you, Janet Gover!). She knows who likes to sleep on a quiet floor and who needs a kitchen that parties into the wee hours. She did it all. Yes, there are helpers. People who greet lovely newbies (cheers, Kate Thomson) and people who schedule the industry appointment allocations (thank you, Elaine Everest). People who chair the RNA (kisses to Alison May and all past leaders), and of course the scads of folk who help stuff those lovely goodie bags, but still. Organising a conference for well over two hundred delegates and some thirty-plus speakers as well as the venue, the catering, the glitter on the tables for Saturday night etc etc is a big task.

So, a couple of years ago before I’d even had a sip of wine, I volunteered to help. I’d book the speakers and one-to-one industry experts and Jan would oversee the venue logistics (of which there is a mind-boggling amount to consider) and book the delegates (another epic job including, but not limited to, getting those lovely glittery first-time Conference attendee flowers on name tags).

Booking speakers is akin to picking thirty-six shiny candies from a huge jar filled with thousands of impossibly wonderful candies. The previous year’s speakers have to be considered. Delegate’s feedback is pored over (yes, we really do consider it). All this and more to create that all important balance for the myriad of novelists who make up our membership. We put a lot of thought into creating sessions that meet everyone’s needs and perspectives, headlining the RNA’s passion for inclusivity. As such, the speakers should showcase the variety in modern romantic fiction including: romcom, historical, SCIFI, saga with BAME, LGBTQ and all of the other protagonists in between seeking their Happily Ever Afters. After all, love matters to everyone. And then, of course, there are the one-to-one industry feedback sessions. The feedback – no matter the outcome – is unbelievably useful. It’s definitely taught me to take some constructive criticism on the chin!

This year, just as everything was getting exciting and I thought we’d nailed it, Covid-19 happened and we couldn’t hold the shiny conference I’d just organised and Jan had already taken over a hundred bookings for. Then our chairwoman Zoomed me (because that’s now a verb) and said “virtual conference.” I said no, no, no because I was mourning the conference we couldn’t have. When booking opened for the virtual conference Alison persuaded me to book speakers and industry professionals for despite my reservations, scores of you signed up. Which is just the juice we need, come autumn, to open up a shiny new spreadsheet and do it all again. Happy virtual conference everyone!!

Sheila Crighton’s first job was selling popcorn at an arthouse cinema. She later became a cameraman and news producer for Associated Press TV, made a few TV programmes, then gave it up to raise stripy cows and write books as Annie O’Neil and Daisy Tate. One of her gazillion dreams is to write a Hallmark Christmas movie.