Beginnings: AWP

Well, here we are: the eve of AWP. I picked up my booklets & fancy little AWP bag this afternoon, and as I passed my writing peers with their lime-green lanyards and matching bags, I felt a whir of excitement and (let’s be honest) nervousness.

My last AWP experience was quite different as I went with a small group from our college’s literary magazine. It was in Chicago—a city I’d only ever driven by—and I had no idea what I was doing. As a returning attendee, I at least understand the structure, the layout, the hectic schedules, full rooms, and buzzing bookfair—yet we’re in Seattle—the one city (aside from Florence) that I know best in the world, a place that is familiar, a place that is home, but I am surrounded entirely by strangers.

Walking through Pike Place today, I started counting lanyards—strangers coming to my city to learn about writing, teaching, publishing. In the registration hall, couples and crews gathered around tables, flipping through the schedule of seminars. I figured I’d save my planning for tonight since I wanted to enjoy a precious day of Seattle sun.

Maybe that wasn’t the best idea. Exhausted yet motivated, here I am: booklets sprawled over my bed, trying to plan a day by narrowing down the five to ten seminars each hour that interest me most to the one I will attend for each time block.

By the time I made it through the day’s list, I realized I reserved no time to go to the bookfair, to eat, or to even take a short break—everything is back-to-back-to-back.

Now it’s nearly tomorrow, and I know I need to sleep soon in order to be up, ready, and present for the 9:00 session, but all I want to do is write. So… in order to go learn, listen, and absorb all that I can to improve my writing life, I have to decide if it’s worth sacrificing time to write now when the muses begin to sing?