Well, it was okay.
As you may now, I go to AWP and I usually have a grand time, meeting up with old friends and making new ones. The book fair is like a candy store. And there is nothing I love more than an exclusive reception.
For some reason, I couldn’t quite get my AWP mojo on. I suppose it was inevitable. For years, I have heard writers complain that it’s like a vipers’ nest. Or that they get overwhelmed by all the people. I once remember being a young writer– this was right before Leaving Atlanta was released– and I was eagerly chattering on to an older more established writer that I admire. She looked at me and gave a weary semi-smile and said, “Give me your card. If I promise to buy your book, will you promise to stop telling me about it.” My little feelings were hurt and I was quite embarrassed, but… Ten years later, although I would never say something like that to anyone, I kind of understand. So, Grumpy Sarcastic Older Writer From Yesteryear, I apologize and I salute you.
The social dynamic was also a little intense. I has some interactions with friends which caused me to lose some of the respect that I had for them when we were friends not in the context of Writerpalooza. But by the same token, there are friends that I emerged after the three days, closer than ever. So I think I came out ahead on that front.
Oh, my book? Oh yeah, that. Well, I gave a reading that I wasn’t all that pleased with. Murphy’s Law was in full effect. I can be something of a perfectionist, so I was kicking myself… until a professional setback took over and there was no need for me to kick myself, since that setback was all upside my head. (Again, thank heavens for real friends.)
But there were a couple of lovely moments. Even though my reading was off, the others on the Algonquin Panel were *magic*. (Caroline Leavitt.. wow.) Then, there was the panel to celebrate the 30th anniversary of the Jenny McKean Moore Writer in Washington fellowship. it was absolutely inspiring to hear from people who actually knew the woman in whose name this award is endowed. Her children spoke, as did her old friends. I am honored to have been the 30th recipient. When some of my students from five years ago showed up, all grown up and doing well, I teared up like an old lady at a graduation.
So that’s the round up. I didn’t even take any pictures. I didn’t even tweet.
It was like that.