I have always loved the hilarious, classic Kurt Vonnegut essay about writing conferences Teaching the Unteachable. It contains one of my favorite Vonnegut quotes, which I have paraphrased for years:
"The idea of a conference for prose writers is an absurdity. They don't confer, can't confer. It's all they can do to drag themselves past one another like great, wounded bears."
Every time someone new to writing asks me if I recommend this conference or that one, I toss this quote their way. I don't do it to discourage them--although, if I were a more compassionate person, I probably ought to. I do it to remind them that writing, like anything else, can be practiced by many people but only practiced really well by those who have the personality and innate aptitude for it.
Of course, you can't find out if you have an aptitude until you try it. So, people ought to try it if they want to. Unfortunately, a lot of people who have no writer genes whatsoever continue to pursue the art long after their lack of talent becomes apparent. The tragedy is not that the Web is clogged with hopefuls who can't write, but that they might never find out where their true talent lies while they waste themselves typing instead of writing.

Vonnegut doesn't say that these folks should quit. Nor do I. Because if they did, and conferences disappeared, where would writers spend their summers, and how would they pay their bar tab?
This essay was published in 1967. The world has changed a lot since then, in terms of technology. And there are more people than there were back then. But human nature stays the same. As long as there are people who want to be writers, there will be people who make money telling them how.


Salon.com
Comments
Couldn't resist that!
As a writer, I am self taught, save for the Franciscan nuns who taught me English and writing in high school and college. Oh, and the Dominicans!
So, no time for conferences, classes or otherwise, instructional tutorials.
I can take criticism and will continue to muddle through with my heart felt attempts at writing for amusement. Mostly, mine.
I felt the sting of my own truth at a writer's conference years ago. I was young and foolish, and shared my scholarship to attend the event with a boyfriend who pretty much ruined it for me with his wounded bear routine. He kept wandering up to people like the fiction editor of Esquire, asking: "So, do you think the novel is dead?"
Once I found my way to the writers' bar, and got to know the bartender on a first name basis, things got a lot better.
Nowadays, I would advise anyone with a computer to seek the information they want, for free, online. I imagine there are conference darlings who get discovered and published, but unless you're already friends with the event organizers, it's about as likely as being spotted by a talent scout while shopping and immediately cast in a film opposite Julia Roberts.
Writing is a lot of hard work, with occasional reasons to celebrate. I only stick with it because I have no other talent whatsoever.