Immersed in Books
by Elena Lucia Perez
Every spring, the Association of Writers and Writing Programs (AWP) organizes a conference and bookfair for the literary community. It moves to a different U.S. city each year so that writerly folks from different locations can have the chance to attend. Last year it took place in Los Angeles, California where I (Elena) live. This year it took place in Baltimore, Maryland.
I wasn’t able to attend this year, but when I attended for the first time last year in Los Angeles, it was a magical experience. A whole weekend immersed in books with so many other lovers of words and stories? How could I say no to that!
I signed up to be a volunteer, which gave me full access to the book exhibit hall and panels in exchange for me helping attendees navigate that same exhibit hall. Needless to say, I became very familiar with the layout of the booths by the end of the weekend.
Volunteering led to many fun interactions. I chatted with my fellow volunteers on the same shift and discovered that one of them was a published poet with her book for sale at one of the booths. (I of course bought it!) I talked with a young gentleman, who seemed new to the publishing world, about indie publishing vs. the Big 5, imprints, and science fiction. I met a self-published author who was handing out fancy envelopes with a QR code to download his new audio book, and someone else was handing out coupons for free books at one of the booths (more books were bought!).
When not volunteering, I attended panels and after-hours events where I met more writers, including two of The Metaworker’s published authors, Shaun Anthony McMichael and Kathryn Temple, and I talked with many writers and publishers.
I was also very impressed by the AWP’s commitment to accessibility. They provided quiet and lactation rooms, blind and deaf services, as well as large and visible signage everywhere that went so far as to detail the grade of the ramps for wheelchair access. This especially made the conference feel like a safe space, which I appreciated.
I’ve been to many conferences and conventions over the years, but the ones featuring books and publishing like AWP are my favorite and I always leave feeling inspired and light, re-energized and ready to dive back into my creative projects.
Below are two more experiences from our volunteers, Assistant Editor M.R. Lehman Wiens and Slush Reader Caitlin O’Halloran, who both attended the convention in Baltimore, Maryland this year.
Though I have not met most of the staff of The Metaworker in person, I was excited to know that members of our Metaworker team would be able to meet at the convention this year. It’s a wonderful reminder that our digital circles have the ability to expand into the physical world and enrich our experiences.
“A Murder of Crows. A Parliament of Owls. A ______ of Writers.”
by M.R. Lehman Wiens
This March, I attended the Association of Writers and Writing Programs (AWP) Convention in Baltimore, one of the largest annual gatherings of writers in the country. There’s a huge book fair, dozens of panels on craft, and generally a lot of people talking about the written word.
What would one call such a gathering? The internet seems to be in disagreement over the collective noun for a group of writers. Among the search results I found a ‘workshop’ of writers, a ‘quill’ of writers, a ‘worship’ of writers. A ‘draft’ of editors. A ‘chapter’ of novelists.
Frankly, I’m bored and tired of the trend of prescribing collective nouns to things (although I do admit to laughing at “an insecurity of writers”). I’m perfectly content with saying ‘a group of writers’ simply for the sake of leaving the definition open and flowing. As a category is sharpened and clarified, it unavoidably narrows the span of its subject. A ‘group’ of writers, however, can include poets, story-tellers, contrarians, truth-tellers, screenwriters, and more, without excluding any of them.
Rather than narrowing the definition of a group of writers, I’d like to add to it by drawing from my time in Baltimore.
A group of writers is:
- John Waters, the screenwriter of Hairspray and Pink Flamingoes, presiding over a keynote that is equal parts profane and profound. The audience is laughing so hard that you don’t realize he’s given you some of the best writing advice of your life until it’s over and your mind is buzzing with the possibilities.
- A panel for writers with ADHD that is packed wall to wall, the room electric, all of us feeding off each other. As each panelist speaks, you recognize their struggles as your own. For the first time, you meet people who don’t seem surprised that you listen to “Coffee Shop ambience 12 hours” on Youtube when you write, and that understand the back-and-forth between dishes-writing-laundry-writing-cooking-writing-work-writing that occurs over the course of an hour. The panelists tell you to be gentle with yourself, and you know they’re right.
- A tap on your shoulder. You turn, and recognize someone’s nametag before you recognize their face. It’s the first time you’ve met in person, but you’ve been attending the same writing sprint together for years. And even though you don’t know the facts of their life, you know them, because you’ve heard them read their work and you’ve read your work to them. Every subconscious piece of themselves they’ve shared with you rides in the back of your mind, and the conversation comes quick and easy.
- Comparing the stacks of books you were always going to buy at the AWP book fair, despite your assurances to the contrary. (I don’t normally book shame, but I deserve it. I bought too many books.) But when you pick up a book of poetry, and a single stanza brings tears to your eyes, it’s hard not to take it home with you. When the author beams at you and asks if you’d like it signed, it’s impossible to say no.
- Five MFA students painting the town red. You start in John Waters’ favorite bookstore, where a reading by trans poets reminds you that reading words is different than hearing them in the poet’s own voice. Reading the words lets you see the form, and appreciate the poet’s mastery of their craft. Hearing the words is pure emotion given life, dripping from their mouths to your ear.
You go from the bookstore to a brewery to a dive bar because it seems like there’s not enough time to say all you want to say before last call, before closing time. It’s not about the drinks or the food or the venue, but about the sharing of ideas.
Perhaps that’s why you write, to have the time to get it all out, and give people the time to hear it.
Or maybe it’s because when someone in the group wants to bum a cig, they trade with some strangers, a poem for a smoke.
Maybe it’s both.
My first AWP, I attended panels all day, every day, taking in over a dozen. This time around, I made it to just three. My first AWP, I didn’t meet a single person I knew. This time, I met over a dozen. There’s no wrong way to do AWP, other than to stay in your hotel room the whole time. AWP is about sinking into the diversity of the world of writers, and returning home energized and excited. Each time I’ve gone back, the experience has become richer: AWP is not only a conference, but a return to a community.
And perhaps that’s the collective noun I’m in search of, because while it’s more focused than ‘group’, it’s both inclusive and supportive. It speaks to our strength as writers; we may work alone, but in the work, we are together. A community of writers.
Flying home from Baltimore, I looked around at the folks boarding with me. A softball team and a baseball team, each from different schools, both heading south for spring break. Families corralling children, business travelers on their phones, and flight crews deadheading to a hub. Scattered among them, folks reading indie lit, or typing away on their laptops, or wearing a shirt that says “I Read Gay Fairy Smut”. The AWP attendees were easy to spot. There were other writers there, too. I’m sure they were everywhere, in fact – typing stories between business emails, crafting a poem on their phone, or drafting a book in the margins of their study notes.
AWP is special. But writers are all of us.
And regardless of where we’ve been, or where we’re going, we’re a community.
My Experience at AWP
by Caitlin O’Halloran
Going to AWP is something I’d been dreaming about doing ever since I found out about it a few years ago. So when I received an email from a literary magazine inviting me to do an off-site reading, I decided to go for it and bought my ticket, booked my hotel, and planned my flight from Rochester to Baltimore.
My reading was hosted by -ette, an online literary journal that exclusively publishes short works, including micros, prose poems, and flash fiction. Each written work is accompanied by a beautiful illustration made by one of the co-editors, Beth Hahn. I read with 6 other writers who had all either been published or are currently scheduled to be published with -ette. The reading was an off-site event held on the second floor at a bar called Peter’s Pour House.
Off-site events are one of the best ways to meet other writers. While not officially sponsored by AWP, they are a huge part of the AWP experience. These events are arranged by various people and organizations within the writing community. On any given night during AWP, there are dozens of these off-site events taking place at various bars, restaurants, and other types of venues near the convention center.
Reading my work at an event like this was incredibly validating. I was nervous to perform, as I’d only ever read my poems in small workshops and casual open mics, but I’m so glad that I was able to do it.
I enjoyed getting to meet the other writers as well, though I wish I’d had more time to talk with everyone. My aunt and uncle surprised me by showing up to support me. Another poet I knew from when I lived in Boston came too. It was also at this reading that I met one of my fellow slush readers from The Metaworker, Max Zell, for the first time in real life.
Afterwards, a group of us tried to find another event happening at a local bookstore/ record shop. While looking for it, we ran into about ten other people who were also looking for the same venue. Eventually we found it, and I’m convinced that there were motion-detecting sensors for the lights, because it was through an entrance we had already passed that was completely dark earlier.
Thursday was the first day of panels. I’ve heard a lot of people say that the panels are not the main reason they go to AWP, but I really enjoyed them. I attended some great panels on topics like the novel-in-stories, the making of chapbooks, and how to put together a poetry manuscript.
At the beginning I took no notes and just tried to be present in the moment and listen to what the speakers had to say. I saw that a lot of people around me were taking notes with pen and paper, so I tried that, but as a left-handed person, my handwriting isn’t the best. What worked out a bit better for me was taking notes on my phone, though I was a little nervous that people would think I was just not paying attention. I mostly tried to jot down different names of presses, writers, and books that were mentioned so that I could look them up later. I did see a handful of people taking notes via computers, but I didn’t want to carry a laptop all around the convention center and then to the off-site events afterwards.
One of the most lively parts of the convention is the Book Fair, where tons of different presses, universities, and literary magazines sell their books and tell attendees about their organizations. There are also so many writers walking around the different aisles. I was able to meet the assistant editor of The Metaworker, M.R. Lehman Wiens, while going through the 1,000s aisle. That’s where we snapped our selfie.
With so many amazing books for sale, it should be no surprise that by the end of the weekend I had acquired 18 new books. Saturday, the last day of the Book Fair, had the best sales. There were a bunch of Buy-1-Get-1 free and Buy-2-Get-1 free sales. Someone at a small press even gave me a free flash fiction collection. I later heard that someone was selling books for $1, but I didn’t get a chance to buy any of those.
Saturday really is the best day for sales because most of the presses don’t want to have to pay to ship or fly home all of their remaining books. However, if you wait until the last day, you might find that a particular book you wanted has sold out. So maybe you should do what I did and buy books every single day? (And yes, I am probably saying this to justify my book haul of 18 total books.)
Next year will be in Chicago. I’m not sure yet if I’ll be able to go, but if you do, I hope you have a blast!
M.R. Lehman Wiens is a Pushcart-nominated writer with work appearing in The First Line, Hearth and Coffin, Tales Anthology, and others, with an upcoming piece in Consequence Forum. He lives in Kansas. Find him at his website lehmanwienswrites.com
Caitlin O’Halloran is a biracial Filipino-American poet living in Rochester, New York. She has a Bachelor of Arts from Boston University in Philosophy and History. Her work has been published in Vast Chasm Magazine, The Basilisk Tree, and Remington Review. www.caitlinohalloran.com
Image Credit: M.R. Lehman Wiens, Caitlin O’Halloran, and Elena L. Perez
