September 10th, 2007

Lit-Life Weekend

I wonder if people wonder about me as a writer: I’m so talky, such “Go Team!” type, that it might not seem immediately apparent how I manage to make a go of any project I have to do in silence alone in a room. And it is difficult for me–the phone and Facebook (and this blog) become great temptations when I go too long without chatter. But the writing life does have its social outlets, I’m beginning to discover, and I’m not the only one who likes to see and hear words in a party-type atmosphere.

So Friday night was an actual party at which pretty much everyone was a writer, and a friendly one at that (why else go to the party?) I feel as though there were 20 books in the brains of that room, just pulsing, ripening. Someday I will read those books and I really can’t wait, but in the meantime it was such a joy to be chattering about what they shall or might be, as well as what my own might become someday. “Somedayness” can be a terrifying feeling or a delightful one, but I am feeling strong today, and so am delighted.

Saturday I actually *did* manage to spend on my own, finishing one story and writing a chunk of a new one. Also sleeping late (8:30!) and going to a Pilates class and doing laundry and all those other things that a solitary day is good for. I felt very productive, and Rose-coloured central is very clean now. Sadly, it is also catless, as Marlene-the-cat got recalled to her home. It was fun while it lasted.

Sunday, as you may already know, was Eden Mills Writers’ Festival, which is basically an afternoon of wonderful readings and book sales in the hills outside Guelph. It’s a gorgeous spot and the volunteers do an amazing job not just rounding up great readers but organizing and presenting and smiling at every attendee as if they are personally thrilled you made it. I was thrilled I made it, despite the cold (I was determined to wear my red sundress, but I had to put tights and a turtleneck underneath. I looked a little odd, especially when I broke down and put a cardigan and a windbreaker on over top) and the rain (I watched a few readings from under my umbrella). Ok, so the weather was decidely poor, but the turnout was still impressive and the readers rose admirably to the occasion. And, well, if I’m a little ill now, it was totally worth it.

I have a lot to learn from such readers, as I myself will be reading from my story “All the Ghostlies” at the Hart House Open House Wednesday evening (7ish, if you are interested). I’m pretty excited, to be honest. More talking!!

Hope your weekend was good, too!

It was the myth of fingerprints / that’s why we must learn to live alone

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So Much Love by Rebecca Rosenblum

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