And my crazy weekend ends. Just in the nick. Capt’n, she canna take much more! Hold her together, Scotty!
The weekend was fabulous. From beginning to end. Just totally fabulous.
Thursday night was amazing. It could not have gone any better. I could not get over how many people came out to support it. Wow! The readers were terrific. The Heritage Players were awesome. I just couldn’t be more pleased with the end result.
Friday night, of course was less nerve-wracking for me because all I had to do was show up and have fun. Great readings! We closed O’Donaghue’s after the book launches.
The workshops were all really good on Saturday. The banquet was absolutely amazing! Such good food! And the cheesecake! Oh boy!
And again so much support for the readings this morning! What a great turn-out! So many people writing! It’s exciting!
Some of my favourite memories from the weekend:
That moment when Sherry sat down after doing her first intro on Thursday night and I knew for sure that the evening was going to work.
Driving with my favourite ladies on Friday showing them MY Miramichi.
At the bus stop when suddenly Gerry was also there.
Being mentioned in conjunction with S.
The surprise of a poem for me.
1973 and 1979 at O’Donaghue’s Friday night.
“Seeing comes before words. The child looks and recognizes.”
“Isn’t that our aim? To write like old men and women?”
“The facts aren’t good enough.”
“Fiction is taking liberties with the truth. Fiction is the truth that bothers us late into the night. Fiction is truer than the truth.”
“Write about what you know you don’t know.”
“It’s much easier to consider eternity than the present moment. The truth is in the eternal, but we’re going to write about it in this present moment that we can’t grasp.”
“The writer has a moral onus to write the truth, but the story itself is never moral.”
Hearing David Adams Richards read from “Lost Highway.”
Welling up with tears as one of the young winners of the Sheree Fitch prize read a poem about girls doing anything to conform, about becoming the bad girl, realizing being bad is not good, the difficult lesson that reversing to a good girl is not nearly as easy.
Salad greens, strawberry vinaigrette, pickles, potato salad, penne salad, coleslaw, rice, carrots, potato wedges, roast turkey, cranberry chutney, hip of beef, chocolate cheesecake with strawberries, new york cherry cheesecake, cheesecake, cheesecake, cheesecake, cheesecake . . .
Ed & Elaine!
Getting a hug and kiss on the cheek from David Adams Richards when I finally got to meet him.
Loosening the frame from the bubblewrap to reveal the painting I’ve loved forever, and realizing I love it even more than I knew.
Finally getting to see my sweetie in person for a few minutes this morning before the final event.
Feeling the audience connection after reading an excerpt from Three Thirty Three.
Watching writers, who didn’t know they were writers, realize they are writers, and the satisfaction of knowing that in some small way I’ve helped them reach this level of consciousness by helping to plan the event, by being there to witness the transformation.
And all those other little moments that I haven’t found the words to illustrate.
Listening To: don’t look back, boston