The Sounds and Smells of Ten Thousand Writers in a Badly Lighted Basement

Before I say anything else about AWP, watch this:

That was from the NY Daily News’ Brian Mihok, who has excellent taste.

Anyhow, that was, hands-down, the best AWP ever. I’m still recovering from the overstimulation, leading as I normally do a very quiet life. (Also from the tiny red bumps I seem to have acquired in my hotel room. And the proliferation of unflattering mirrors in said room, all of which were strategically located to reflect my least visually pleasing moments right back at me. It’s good to be home.) My ears were ringing for the first day back or so. And though I’ve heard tell of some wafting body odor here or there, I’m actually just kidding about the smells. Aside from a nearby vent piping, alternately, diesel fumes and cigarette smoke into the basement where we were exiled, I thought everybody smelled just fine. (And yes, I have an excellent sense of smell, thankyouverymuch.)

At the table, I got to meet all the Engine Books authors I haven’t met yet, which is all of them except Patricia Henley and Debra Monroe (who, sadly, was not in attendance), and to visit with Patricia. And just a ton of other people who I’ve long admired from afar. I even got to leave the table a bit, thanks to the very trustworthy Grace the Intern.

The table looked goooood (though my photo’s a little blurry, and I don’t know who that guy is shopping at the Inch table, but I hope he bought a lot of stuff).  All day, every day of the fair, people stopped to say how beautiful the books are. They touched them. Some went so far as to fondle. Others kept walking, but rounded the corner slowly, heads turning, eyes glued to the display. One woman misread the banner as “Lingerie Books,” which I kind of liked. “They’re underneath,” I told her. My corniest AWP joke.

We sold a lot of books! Enough to call the bookfair an unqualified success. I was particularly happy that people liked the bookplate/pre-order thing we did, where the authors whose titles aren’t out yet autographed a bookplate if you ordered their books. It was really just an opportunity for me to make all the authors hang out with Grace and me at the table, but it turns out that people ordered copies, too.

But undoubtedly the best part of the week was Friday night, when Patricia Henley and Myfanwy Collins read at Women and Children First bookstore, and the whole Engine Books family, sadly missing Greg Spatz, who was otherwise engaged, and Debra Monroe, who sat this AWP out, got together for the evening.

The store was lovely (oh, how I wish we had an indie anywhere near that good where I live), the readings fabulous, and dinner after sublime. All I could think to say when we got back to the hotel was, “That is what this literary life is supposed to be like.” It is so my privilege to be able to work with–and to finally meet!–Myfanwy Collins, Sybil Baker, Courtney Mauk, Nan Cuba, and Greg Spatz. And Patricia Henley, of course, who’s been an influence in my literary life for as long as I’ve had one.

I’ll be honest: I think I’m having a little bit of withdrawal. I love my quiet life, and am such a homebody, but I’m already missing everyone, looking forward to any chance to see them all again.

Hopefully, before long, we can get Grace’s reflections on her first AWP experience here on the blog. I can’t imagine what it would have been like to join these masses while I was still an undergraduate, but I sense that Grace is a little bit better prepared than I was at her age, and if she was nervous, nobody at all could tell.

Short of wondering if I need to take my own sheets and towels next time I stay at a Hilton, I can’t imagine what I’d do differently. I’m so grateful for all my friends, new and old, who made this so much fun. I know it’s cool to complain about the self-promotion and insularity of AWP, but for three days each year, I’m happy to hear about everyone else’s books, to see them and touch them and a lot of the time buy them. I’m happy to be among my tribe, a feeling I don’t often have in the flesh. I’m feeling just now like that jolt of energy, which left me physically tired but mentally completely energized, might carry me along for a little while longer than usual.