Pinch me, bubelahs, I’m headed to a professional writers' conference this month!
Not only as an attendee but as the winner of a virtual stand-up comedy audition, guaranteeing me a slot to perform at the stand-up comedy night at this very conference!
AAAAH!
Or rather, I’m headed back to the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop because I have been here before.
Many (many) moons (and hundreds of therapy sessions) ago….
Cue flashback music…
I had started writing online when my first child was born in 2010. I did it mostly out of desperation, to make sure I could still string words together that weren’t just about someone’s bowel movements (as endlessly fascinating a topic as that is for her grandparents).
As I started showing up in the blogosphere, I discovered other online writers (or “mom bloggers” as we were somewhat annoyingly called) in the comments section of the blogs we were mutually reading. And together we figured out our feelings, one feeding session at a time, and formed community.
It was during this short-lived career as a “mommy blogger” that I found the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop — an event celebrating Erma Bombeck, a newspaper columnist who chronicled the ordinary life of a Midwestern suburban housewife.
Or as I like to think of her — the OG mommy blogger.
And so, in 2012, I flew to Dayton, Ohio.
I left my daughter for the very first time and packed myself (along with my imposter syndrome) to commune with others hoping to follow in Erma’s footsteps.
And yes, it’s quite possible my attendance was less about going to a professional conference and more about getting an uninterrupted night of sleep.
Heading to the conference then, I didn’t know anybody in real life. It was nerve-wracking, and I worried about not having anybody to eat lunch with, just like in high school.
Heading to the conference now, I still don’t know anyone in real life. But I’m not too worried. Because I have a high schooler now, so I’m more worried about who SHE’s having lunch with.
After the virtual stand-up comedy auditions, a Bay Area Erma attendee reached out to me to connect ahead of the conference. I shared that I didn’t know anyone in attendance (ok, ok, I know literally one person going), so I’m actively looking to fill my dance card, so to speak. She assured me that as the winner of the virtual stand-up comedy auditions, I’ll be a bona fide conference celebrity, and people will be lining up to have lunch with me.
Me? A conference celebrity???
I found this absolutely hysterical.
This is a label so silly and outlandish that I don’t have to wonder if I am deserving of it.
But the label of writer?
That is one I am still using somewhat tentatively, even as I head to a professional writing conference.
When I showed up in 2012, I was afraid that I wasn’t a “real writer,” that I was just a “mommy blogger.” After the conference, though, I quickly had to set the label maker aside, as life was life-ing. That same year I moved back to San Francisco, and I made a hard pivot away from blogging and towards corporate life.
Soon after, I stopped performing and writing altogether. (A story for another time.)
For many years now, I have been reclaiming that writer-y part of myself and finding my way back, a few strung-together words at a time:
- a funny Facebook update here,
- an email to the preschool parent community there,
- eventually an article (or 12) for the (now defunct) Golden Gate Mothers’ Group Magazine
- and, finally, a memoir self-published two years ago.
Self-published, but still a whole (a$$) book I wrote. After writing the memoir, I wondered: should I take the label maker back out?
Why am I so obsessed with labels anyway? Maybe shopping at Ross and Payless will do that to you? Or maybe life in a Communist country where your vocation is assigned to you by the government has something to with it. Just spitballing here…
I thought having the right label mattered, but I’ve gone from “mommy blogger” to “conference celebrity,” and I know the label you slap on yourself doesn’t matter nearly as much as who I surround myself with.
I also know my résumé doesn’t matter nearly as much as my commitment to show up day in and day out, whether I feel like it or not, whether I’m winning or not.
And, perhaps most importantly, I know that “waiting to arrive” feels different than surrendering to the journey. That this “returning to yourself” is a practice.
It’s like showing up for yoga practice (and I clarify this for those of you not yet evolved enough to practice yoga, ahem), the poses and sequences are largely the same, but you bring a different you to the mat every time.
In 2012, when I showed up to the mat (aka the Erma Bombeck conference), I was showing up as a new mom, as a new writer, and the mat was a place I felt I had to prove I belonged.
But in 2026, I’ve had so much more practice. Not yoga practice, but still. I know I belong on the mat. We all do, and I’m excited to see what version of me shows up to meet me there.
— Yuliya Patsay
A writer and comedian, Yuliya Patsay is the author of Until the Last Pickle and creator of the Substack “Buckle Up, Bubelah.” She regularly competes in story slams, including The Moth, and recently learned she’ll take the stage at a Moth GrandSLAM storytelling competition. She’s the grand prize winner of the 2026 Erma’s Got Talent: The Stand-Up Auditions.