This week over 70 authors will descend upon Greensboro for readings, signings, and lively conversation with readers.
I’m excited to attend not only as a fan of several authors presenting, but also as an author on a panel. I’ll be sharing time with Ray Morrison, Steve Cushman, and Steve Mitchell at Preyer Hall, Greensboro History Museum, May 19, 4:30 pm to talk about contemporary Short Stories, read from our work, and sign a few books.
Of all the events taking place this weekend I know I’m most excited for Nikki Giovanni (A Good Cry, 2017), Fred Chappell (I Am One of You Forever, 1985), Leesa Cross-Smith (Whiskey & Ribbons, 2018), and Greensboro Bound After Hours. There will be music, performances, and of course books.
For a full list of events browse the Greensboro Bound site.
Opening reception takes place at Weatherspoon Art Gallery, UNCG, May 17, 6:00 pm
I hope to see you there!
Did you ever read Bridge to Terabithia or Tuck Everlasting? What about The Phantom Tollbooth? Any of the Ramona Quimby books?
I did. I remember reading all of those books. While some of the details of what goes on in those stories are hazy, I remember how they made me feel. Adventurous, brave, curious. I couldn’t get enough. I wanted to “do that”, create worlds and stories that readers just didn’t want to put down.
It’s funny. All I’ve ever wanted to do is write and I’ve managed to do so in some way for a while now. I’ve been lucky, besides the time I got caught writing on the living room wall with a red lipstick, that my love of reading and writing has been praised and encouraged.
I know that I write because I truly enjoy it. I feel the most like myself when I’m actively putting words down to figure out what’s happening or could happen in a story. Writing is also therapeutic and healing to me.
But when did this love turn into the thing that I must do? When did it get serious for me? Was it gradually or all at once?
Recently the Lit Hub article The Books That Made Your Favorite Writers Want to Write came across my Facebook timeline. Writers like Sherman Alexie and Zadie Smith know the exact book that made them want to be writers. How cool is that? Something locked into place for them and they knew or decided that they wanted to “do that” too.
The last few days I’ve been wondering which book(s) made me want to write. Was it Ramona Quimby, Age 8? Onion John? Maybe a short story from the anthologies I read in high school. An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge, maybe? Was it poetry in college? Nikki Giovanni’s Ego-Tripping, perhaps?
At this point it would be nice to know what tipped the scales for me, but I don’t think it really matters.
I’m writing. I am a writer.