After Gwenda and Christopher and Jed and Gavin and Kelly stayed up late with me Thursday night and the helicopters began early, my AWP day started at noon. Virtually Infinite: The Broad Reach and Vast Potential of the Online Literary Journal — great title, panel not so much. The guy who had the most interesting things to say got to speak the least. You can listen to it if you like, tho — podcast here.
On to the floor, where again my brain short-circuited after just a few stops. There are many cool literary magazines and university presses and MFA programs and other exciting writing ventures and it gets overwhelming visiting just a handful. I did manage to find the NEA booth to congratulate David Kipen on his great blog. Imagining Zora Neale Hurston and Hemmingway sharing a ride up from Florida? Priceless.
Then I went to the prizewinners reading. Not a panel: five guys reading their stuff. Kevin Moffett, whose Pittsburgh reading I missed because my car slid sideways across the ice-covered streets, was particularly excellent.
I had this crazy idea that the Marketing Indie Lit panel/discussion was going to be excellent, too. I was wrong. Mainly it focused on direct marketing (building lists, surveying your audience) and pushing your authors. But it didn’t ever touch on the basic elements of a marketing plan, on whether indie publishers have any advantages they can leverage, or what budget ranges work or don’t. I’d say the best takeaway was the recommendation to publishers developing relationships with independent bookstores — to sell your press rather than individual books.
John Fucking Barth! Michael Fucking Martone! Big fucking crowd! So far this prevails as the gold star event of the conference. Michael Martone was very funny, which for some reason I hadn’t expected. And so was John Barth — as he approached the mic, he turned to the 20-foot-high banner hanging behing him, took out a pen, and circled a misspelling (I think it was “litery” for “literary”). Readings were great. Just ask any of the other 800 or so people who were there.
Also of note: by all accounts, Robert Owen Butler’s session was intense; I’m not the only fan who found and cornered Steve Erickson.
