It's IFOA time again. I wish my job could be travelling around participating in authors' festivals. I've only been a guest at one such festival and it was the highlight of my entire year. I like the nametags, the slightly uncomfortable chit-chat, the egos, signing books, getting books signed, covertly stalking-by-ignoring-but-giving-meaningful-glances towards authors I admire. I enjoy looking at the writers who are in the middle or towards the end of exhausting tours, coveting their weary eyes and covert eye-rolls at tedious audience questions. I want that malaise! The afternoon hotel naps! SO rock n' roll. I love any scandal that occurs when you get that many authors in a room together, or when authors who hate each other are paired up to read and be interviewed at the same time. All that politeness and performativity, introverts on parade - it's just fascinating. I love watching the publicists and the publishers swarm about too. So many dynamics in a seemingly calm ("boring" - girlfriends I've brought along) setting.
I've since decided to frequent festivals alone, enjoying the invisibility, hoping of course to one day be on stage at such an event. But for now it's lovely to observe.
Sadly I have to miss such great events this weekend. I'll be in Montreal launcing The Emily Valentine Poems - see details below.