Update: I'm behind. I still consider myself in the game, but I haven't found time/energy to write for the last 4 days, and I doubt I'll get any in tomorrow. That puts me about 10,000 words behind.
I didn't write on the weekend because I was attending the fourth annual Wordstock Festival, here in Portland. Two days of writers talking about their work, and reading from their work, in eight rooms simultaneously. And about fifty booths of bookstores, publishers, writing and poetry associations, and even some authors selling their own self-published work (one woman, with a series about dragons, was offering the fourth of the series free if we bought the first three). Also a couple of groups which must exhibit at every gathering at the Convention Center: the Red Cross, and someone selling green energy.
According to the paper this morning, it was the most successful Wordstock to date. I'd guess there were 1,000 people there. In addition to the weekend thing that I attended, there was a Poetry Slam, and W. S. Merwin read another night. There was a full day of Wordstock for Teachers (how to teach writing in schools) and two full days of workshops for writers, and even a Text Ball (i.e., a dance, where attendees were encouraged to come wearing text on their person, this year under the theme "Figures of Speech").
The first day of the Festival was a charge to attend. I saw Aimee Bender and a number of others who I'll spare you (except a mention of a New Zealand author who was impressive, Rachael King). John Hodgman, of the PC-Mac ads and Jon Stewart fame, gave a funny and surprisingly well-rounded reading. He tours with a college friend, Jonathan Coulton, who is a rock singer/guitar player. They started with Coulton singing Hodgman's "Theme Song" and then Hodgman carried his dead pan of-course-I'm-smarter-than-you persona through a discussion of how dramatically his life has changed since becoming a "minor television personality" (with a requisite new Theme Song to represent it). He finished with a story from his new book -- about what his new life is like (all done tongue-in-cheek, deadpan) which was marvelous.
The next day was relatively disappointing. It started with a couple of Science Fiction readings, attended (and read by) exactly the kind of person you see being made fun of at Sci Fi conventions. I'll just say they were people who did not take a lot of trouble to personally groom, or who take a lot of trouble to groom to look different, and half of them were unintentionally androgynous. I could not identify with the authors or the listeners, and I felt bad about myself for not being able to identify with them.
William Least Heat Moon was the next disappointment. He kept not-reading from his book, instead saying that we'd have to buy it and read for ourselves, and then talking about it like an advertisement. He insisted his wife stand up and take a bow, which seems like a nice thing, except she was a handsome woman some 30 years younger than he, and it really felt like he did it to show that he had a handsome young wife, more than to give her any credit. He even said, "When I toured after Blue Highways, I had just had a divorce, so this is to prove to you that I can get and keep a wife." About that point I left his talk, disinterested and a little repelled.
The second day ended better, with a panel about getting published for the first time, and two talks by first time novelists about their truly incredible stories of getting published (one fellow, Selden Edwards, whose time-travel story, The Little Book, is basically the main thrust of the Dutton advertising dollars this fall, spent 32 years writing the novel, having it rejected repeatedly over the decades). My general take-away impression is that the chances of getting a first novel published and those of winning the lottery are about the same (but the lottery only costs a dollar and takes a couple of days of waiting) -- but the speakers were all so happy and optimistic (and relieved), that I left feeling happy and optimistic myself. Definitely a good thing.
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