My AWP Post-Mortem
I’ve watched enough medical dramas on TV to know there is something called an M&M conference that doesn’t involve candy — it takes a look at how recent surgeries went. I made a special trip to the Mütter Museum on the last day I was in Philadelphia, so it feels especially fitting to take inventory of AWP and my experience.
I lost two pairs of reading glasses somewhere in Philadelphia. Now that I’m back home, I found both pairs (but only briefly). I had honestly hoped I would go to AWP and find my writing mojo instead. I imagined I’d be inspired and write a novel on the plane ride home. I’d write something brilliant on the back of the airsickness bag and immediately send the scrawled splendor “as is” for an instant acceptance at a dream publication.
The truth is I didn’t write one “creative” word at AWP or in the two weeks since I’ve been home and really not the months prior either. I said a lot of words like hello, oh my goodness it’s cool to finally meet you in person and thank you for buying my book and yes, I would like to try that food that reminds me of my childhood. I found awesome food in Philly: a brisket sandwich the length of my arm blanketed in sweet peppers, greasy breakfasts, Amish donuts, pretzels — again arm-length, chicken curry, a hamburger overlooking museum grounds and warming British pub food. A lot of my writing focuses on food, so it seems fitting that I ate my way through Philly.
It was more than that though. I also mailed home all the books that were too heavy to carry in my suitcase from the weight of their pages and the signatures inside them, ate meals with editors and writers, and went to museums that were filled with odd textiles and medical oddities. I don’t know that there is/was space for other words beyond menus, museum descriptions and conversations over breakfast and lunch and books and Taylor Swift songs.
One wheel of my carry-on luggage was worn thin by Philadelphia streets and nearly 18,000 steps walking every day. I finally gave up and took an Uber to the Rodin and Barnes Foundation and the Mütter Museum. I didn’t find a “things writers have lost in Philly” formaldehyde-filled jar there, but it feels like they should have one. I’m still searching for an easy umlaut fast key so my punctuation is correct.
The shipped books arrived home. I did too.
Since I’ve been back, I’ve done these things that aren’t really “writing:” helped college kid with internship and drug test, drove eight hours in one day to celebrate my FIL’s 80th birthday (found out he has a poster from The Barnes Foundation in his house for some mysterious reason), sent book ARCs to multiple sites for review, wrote and sent in bios/headshots to a handful of places, drove across the county to pick up a pro-level recording microphone, listened to a dozen versions of audition pieces to pick the best one, fixed a pine straw delivery issue, shopped for teenager birthday parties, drove kid to school, picked kid up from school so she could drive herself and me home as practice, repeat, drove kid to orchestra, waited at orchestra, set up schedule for April which includes 2 band concerts, one orchestra concert, one convocation, one pick-kid-up-from-college, AP tests, prom, all-state band, signed forms and notes, bought groceries, brought groceries, bought groceries, bought groceries, bought gas, bought gas, bought gas, read emails, responded to emails, responded to Twitter, blocked people on Twitter, finished up taxes. And then I did some writing-ish things: worked on assigned articles on how to store fresh mushrooms, are dented cans safe, how to store zucchini, how to clean strawberries, best cookbooks for college students and Doc Marten alternatives, an intro to a published piece coming out soon, interview questions, and read a book for a blurb that needs to be written.
Looking at that list, I think I have a tendency to lose time which means I also lose creativity because I need an expanse of time to write or twenty seconds, depending on what I have available. The things in the above paragraph are all important and necessary and good (except the pine straw delivery, that was a mess). I end up doing a lot of writing in my head, which isn’t the best choice when your head is full of the above plus more.
AWP was not the inspirational end-all-be-all that I wanted it to be as a first-timer, but I left with more than I came with (including that stack of books that may need their own bookshelf). I honestly think everyone at the chaos factory known as AWP probably is in the same boat. Inspired, but also very tired and thankful. I’m thankful for the experience. Selling books, meeting people. Eating food. A tiny amount of quiet away from life chaos (see above). I also feel like I’m maybe an inch away from a creative surge that should come from being in the same space as so many creative spirits.
With all that in mind, I wait. There will be a day in the near future, perhaps June or July or December or maybe tomorrow, when I’ll find my reading glasses or buy new ones at the Dollar Store but also will find my words again. I’ll scrawl things down on the back of a permission slip or cryptically in my phone notes or maybe even in Google Docs where they belong. I’ll offer up those words to my M&M beta readers to analyze if I did good in the word surgery. I’ll think back about my brisket sandwich and the “soap lady” and fighting with Google Maps that was also lost 90% of the time, and then I’ll write the word or words or stories or novels, all the while squinting because I still haven’t found my reading glasses, again.
