Dear Poets,
I hope to get this newsletter out just before the starting bell rings. This evening the Associated Writing Program conference (AWP) launches and I already picture planefuls of writers landing in Seattle and pouring into the city. For those who have never been, AWP is the largest annual creative writing conference in the United States. Panels range across topics in fiction, poetry, and nonfiction with journalism more lightly represented. You’ll also find pedagogy panels about teaching and tribute panels to writers who have passed. There is a football field-sized book fair where publishers, journals, universities and other writing-related organizations set up tables in long (seemingly endless) rows. Here is the schedule with an opening fleet of virtual events released today. Click to ‘All Days’ to see the full array ahead.
It felt easy for me to dismiss the idea of going this year — the panel I went in on wasn’t taken (!), the timing wasn’t great, I’m still pretty Covid-cautious, and I don’t have any institutional funding to support the trip. That being said, as I watch friends post about their readings and events, I’ll admit my sense of FOMO is rising. AWP offers a virtual ticket I am considering, though the offerings are limited. Yet, I’m glad to share some thoughts, philosophical and practical, about the conference and maybe catch up next year (Kansas City!).
Let me start by saying I find the prospect of hordes of writers all descending on a city to be exhilarating. I’m not bothered by crowds, enjoy a sense of collective energy, and find the idea of so many people wanting to celebrate writing to be thrilling. The AWP website claims 12,000 writers attend each year. These numbers sank during Covid but my sense is that this year is roaring back. Eons ago, when the conference was held in New York City, it sold out for the first time. So many people who had trekked to NYC to attend were shut out they started staging readings in local cafes, restaurants, bookstores. AWP began to list “off site” events on their website and this tradition stuck. You can easily fly to the city hosting (weekend in Seattle, anyone?) and have a rich experience just attending off site events and never step into the actual conference center. If you don’t want to pay the full conference fee, you can also buy a Saturday only day pass. As an aside, AWP has really stepped up its work-exchange program so that the conference price is significantly reduced, though you have to apply in advance.
I want to acknowledge that alongside the loud bravado that accompanies all the ‘I’ll be reading here’ ‘Catch me signing my new book at my publisher’s table’ announcements there is definitely a (more often whispered) undercurrent of reactionary AWP-discomfiture. I get where this comes from, though don’t necessarily share it. People complain there is posturing and posing, networking and one-upping. Welp, isn’t this true of any field which has certain power structures in place? Depending on where you’re at with your writing, the ways in which you want to call yourself a writer, if you’re doing this professionally (on any level), AWP can stir a cauldron of mixed feelings. Seeing who has ‘skyrocketed’ in terms of conventional fame/attention (and what you think of their work) can be discordant. If you’re bumping into former grad school peers and their status has shifted for whatever reason (tenure, a big award, a new publisher) your interaction might not be what you once expected and this can be unsettling.
One year I ran into a former grad school friend who was now a Very Big Deal and mentioned I had noticed he was posting pictures on Facebook of people who had supported him in the past. He asked if I wanted to be included in this series and I didn’t know how to react. I think he was sincerely attempting to humble himself in response to the accolades that were being heaped upon him, yet it also felt weird to be offered up in this way on social media. Another year, I remember a poet started posting pictures of other writers’ shoes on social media and there was odd jockeying to put your feet in her path (literally) and be included. This is all to say hierarchies of all sorts emerge. I know some people who will attend and be oblivious to all of this; others will be aware, yet seem immune to any ill effects; and for some the whole boiling pot of people, agendas, and events can be triggering in terms of crises of confidence and perhaps career. I can think of writers who have told me they see the conference as a big reunion and feel nothing but excitement at the idea of crossing paths with so many people at once; I can think of those who have told me they had to frequently retreat to their hotel room to recover from a withering interaction with a former professor or peer and how inadequate the whole conference made them feel.
A few years back I noticed AWP made institutional affiliation and last name (printed on everyone’s conference badge) much smaller in point size than each person’s first name. I took it as a literal and symbolic gesture through which they were trying to inhibit a quick read of status in favor of individual humanity. (To be clear, you don’t need institutional affiliation to attend, though AWP is heavily populated by those at academic institutions and this is another way in which some feel welcomed in and others less so.) How one navigates the emotional waves of being among so many other writers is complex and personal. My advice is to think about what you want to get from the conference and try to find it: if it’s inspiration, attend readings by writers you deeply admire; if it’s learning about new journals to submit to, peruse the book fair rows. If you want to connect with former peers or summer writing conference friends, make lunch or dinner plans way in advance. If there are dynamics from your MFA program you’d rather not revisit (with peers or professors) avoid these receptions.
I used to tell students that attending AWP was like earning an “MFA in three days” — there are so many rich offerings — but you have to focus. Go through the online conference scheduler in advance and prioritize what you most want to do and think you’ll have the energy for. One year, when I was interested in branching out as a nonfiction writer, I decided to largely attend nonfiction and ‘practical’ panels on pitching and finding new writing markets. The first year I attended as a (weary/giddy) new parent I went to all the ‘writing about your children’ panels (an evergreen topic that cuts across genres). Teaching creative writing and pedagogy is another track to take. There are almost always ‘how I got my first book deal’ panels alongside ‘how I promoted my book’ panels and the ever present “how I did it/do it/am figuring out a career as a writer” panels.
Think about what you need now and navigate towards it. Trust that the rest — a surprising connection while waiting in the women’s bathroom line or waiting for Starbucks; an elevator conversation when you find yourself riding up to the 23rd floor with one of your literary idols — will unfold for the best.
Some practical tips:
Carry your phone charger with you at all times. You can almost always find a plug in a conference room and recharge (literally) while you listen to a panel. Likewise, carry a leak-proof coffee travel mug (and water bottle if you can). By day two you’ll need to keep topping off and tanking up.
A power bar or two in your bag is also a good idea. There’s nothing worse than suddenly realizing you’re starving and you’ve got to trek across the convention center to buy unappealing (and overpriced) concession food or walk a few blocks to then buy food you don’t really want but there aren’t any other close options.
Arrive early for popular panels or you might end up sitting on the floor or listening in from the hallway since you can’t even get through the door. If you comb through the program and find (inevitably!) the panels you most want to see are scheduled at the same time, you can bop in and out of sessions (trying to time things to catch who you most want to hear) but only if the rooms are nearby. Don’t exhaust yourself racing from one end of the conference center to another.
You’ll hear this a lot but pace yourself. You could attend events from 9 in the morning till midnight (and then join the crowds now drunk and delirious at the hotel bar). There are an overwhelming number of things happening (often at the same time) and there is a point to take a break and rest. Peruse the off-site schedule and find a way to see some of the city through an event. By doing this I’ve also found myself in Ubers with writers I never would otherwise have gotten to know. The pace seems to crescendo to a Saturday night vortex of afterparties and people can become weary shells of themselves by the time they’re back at the airport on scant sleep. This doesn’t have to be you to have a good conference.
This is easier for some than others, but be friendly. For an introvert, I enjoy meeting new people and there are a million easy openers (“What genre?”). I’ve been surprised by how many connections I’ve made in casual ways (see above in the women’s bathroom/Starbucks line). Yes, I still bring along actual business cards.
Sunday afternoon is prime time to sweep through the book fair. Sales reps are literally giving books away that they don’t want to pack up and ship back. Deals spring up like wildfire and you can often negotiate for an even better one. The catch? You have to lug everything back. Some hotels/conference centers offer shipping services. The other catch with waiting till Sunday to make your purchases is popular books will sell out. Another secret is that most publishers will let you fill out an order form and pay for the book at the AWP price (often discounted) and ship the book(s) to you for free. One year, in the slaphappy exhaustion of Sunday’s closing hours, I recall one publisher (Sarabande?) started offering shots
Again, be friendly. Talk to editors. (I know easier said than done.) Editors of journals (and presses) often staff their booths (alongside interns, volunteers, and if it’s a university-connected journal, undergrad and grad students). It can be luck of the draw who is there when you walk by, but it doesn’t hurt to chat a few minutes, look at previous journals (often discounted or free) and ask what they’re looking for. I wouldn’t expect the editor to remember your name (months later) when you submit work, but you’ll likely glean further insight into what that journal is all about.
Years ago, someone told me one idea was to trawl the book fair aisles with pre-made packets of poems and if you thought a journal was a fit, just hand the packet directly to the editor. This struck me as a bold and bad idea then, as it does now, especially since submissions are almost entirely online. But a friendly chat is fine. In my experience, most of the editors are waiting for someone to stop by their booth and are eager to share what they’re looking for.
If you’ve had work published in a journal, by all means go by and introduce yourself. Editors and those who work on the journal will (likely) be glad to celebrate with you. There is so much work involved in this endeavor, having the journal out in the world and on display is a triumphant moment. You can share in that. As well, having a sort of ‘home’ to rest at in the book fair can be a relief (if anything, for a spare chair for a few minutes). Schmoozing, networking, kibitzing… it’s up to you. I know some people cringe at this; I see it as an opportunity. Chances are good that journals and publishers (both large and small) that you admire will have tables there. Stop by and check them out while introducing yourself.
Swag city! You could outfit your desk for the next year with pens, notepads, coffee cozies (I think that’s what they’re called) and, my favorite, Post-its. And the totes! Dear god, the totes! You can show off your literary affiliations at Trader Joe’s all year with what you can collect for free. Brooklyn Poets always has cool T-shirts and I recall Electric Literature giving away (and selling) some great literary gifts.
There are also tables filled with unexpected surprises. One year I bought a tiny vial of perfume based on a poem by Sylvia Plath from a contemporary perfumer who had a series inspired by her favorite writers. Another year, I was invited to experiment on a hybrid computer/typewriter.
Expect sensory overload. There are some ‘dedicated quiet areas’ (the ‘Dickinson Quiet Space’) is sponsored by AWP, but this might not be adjacent when you need it most. I saw a good conversation on FB about how hard it was to be an autistic writer at AWP. Jeannine Hall Gailey is a poet I had the good fortune of meeting at AWP one year and we’ve keep in touch. I admire her recent blog post, “Managing MS, Chronic Illness and Anxiety: The AWP Edition” and this link to her tips here for navigating AWP as a writer with a disability. She writes about how she physically trained for long days at the conference and a grueling schedule. Fluorescent lighting and windowless conference spaces can be a drain unless you stop to deliberately step outside.
Friends, this has become a rather epic screed. I will save my links for a later newsletter (it seems to be fellowship-applying season). If you do go to AWP and use any of my tips, I’d love to know!
One of my serious regrets in skipping this year is not being at a tribute for my beloved former professor, Adam Zagajewski. There is an official celebration of his life on Friday, March 10th (Rooms 345-346, Summit Building, Seattle Convention Center, Level 3) entitled: “Without End: Honoring Adam Zagajewski” and an offsite event: “An Evening of Readings & Remembrance” (Thursday, March 9, 2023 from 5:30 - 7:00) at The Rabbit Box Theatre (94 Pike Street, Seattle, Washington). I’ve been enjoying reading these tributes from my classmates at the site “Remembering Adam Zagajewski” and thinking about writing my own.
Here is a profile in LARB, “Living Everywhere: On Adam Zagajewski’s “True Life.” And a recent review by Robert Pinsky of Adam’s posthumously published book True Life. He writes, “The poems are at an extreme of truth-telling.”
Lastly, I so enjoyed Oliver Burkeman’s January Zoom workshop, I immediately signed up for the next — this weekend (March 11 & 12), “Designing Your System for Creativity,” which sounds even further up my alley. If you’re not jaunting off to Seattle (or already gallivanting there), I’ll bet it’s not too late to sign up.
As always, I hope to hear from you! ✍️