I've never been to a writers' conference, but hear that the triple compulsions at many are getting published, getting drunk, and getting laid. Thus, a sweet young thing, perhaps fortified by a few shots of booze, might approach Norman Mailer and say, "Ooh, Mr. Mailer, you're so handsome." After they have sex, Mailer will, the sweet young thing hopes, read her manuscript and recommend it to the editor-in-chief at Random House or a stellar literary agent like Ms. Snark.
Is there a smidgeon of truth to these rumors?
There's a reason Miss Snark does not hand out business cards at writing conferences. This is it.
If you want Norman Mailer to discover you, the best thing to do is write to him from your prison cell.
For an explanation of why that is "funny" go here.