The Far Side of AWP

It’s been a wonderful whirlwind week of a campus visit to Seattle University and AWP, and a week that offered up two incredible reviews of Heading North: this one at Atticus Review’s The Attic and this one at Necessary Fiction.

Moments & Images

Seattle, early February. In a planter centered on a red stone courtyard, pansies rise, slump-shouldered, against the mist. In a garden bed beneath some overhanging rhododendron, snowdrops stand green and white. Everywhere, the world stays lush: velvet lichens and mosses clinging even where the branches are bare. These sights are almost as shocking as seeing my own face on a flyer for the on-campus reading sandwiched between visits with two lovely classes of students.

Birds flit through O’Hare, well above the crush of travelers. My pain au chocolat crumbs over its paper wrapper with every bite. I eat fast, eager to put my mask back on, and fight the temptation to dust the ground with pastry in hopes of calling in some of the sparrows. I hope, always, they have their ways out when they want them. Over the week, I am in five different airports for six different flight segments, and each is different, but each has its birds.

There it is, on the table in the bookfair.

It was an AWP of happy surprises: standing room only at our debut author panel, “First Time’s the Charm: Debut Authors on How to Debut”; a brilliant turn-out at my Thursday signing; the constant delight of meeting new friends atop the big, big joy of reconnecting with old friends.

Emma Copley Eisenberg offered up a post-AWP newsletter that perfectly encapsulates the complexities of AWP: the cost, the insecurities, and the wonders, too. It does feel overwhelming, every year, even though I’m one of the people who really look forward to the event. It is very much like stacking class reunions and housing them in a writerly theme park. Even as someone who teaches for a living, I do more talking in those 3.5 days, just catching up with folks, than I do in a month, I think. In a perfect world, AWP would always be followed by a week-long silent retreat, during which I eat no candy and no granola bars, because granola bars and candy (plucked from bookfair tables) usually comprise 2/3 of my AWP meals.

I leave AWP in a strange state: thoroughly energized to re-engage with my writing practice in an intellectual and creative way after experiencing the firehose of panels and events, but entirely exhausted and behind on my teaching life. I was chatting with a friend who actually did some writing during his AWP, which feels astounding to me. It always takes me a few days to catch up and re-find my routine. But it comes.

Tuesday’s snowstorm provided a little touch of quiet—despite the multitude of Teams meetings that have replaced the idea of a snow day—which I really appreciated.

Make your voice heard and call for a ceasefire in Gaza.

The fabulous Genia Blum, the sartorial brilliance behind bookscarves, gave Heading North this vibrant treatment.

As a parting note: On Thursday, March 7, I’ll be running a Thursdays on the Stoop session for Blue Stoop, focused on managing large casts of characters. Thursdays on the Stoop sessions are free and hosted on Zoom. Sign up!