Everyone tired and sore, raise your hand, say AWP.
[M. Bartley Seigel / April 12th, 2010 / Self-congratulatory Nonsense & Young Bright Things ]Another year, another AWP. It was a good one this year, kids, so good I’m still hurting today. Altitude, dry air, endless boozing and the endless boozey hand shaking, a book fair that needed a zeppelin hanger it was so huge, way too little sleep, way too many old friends and new friends with whom to get into trouble with… If I had stayed in Denver any longer I’d have irreparably damaged myself. Anywho, here’s my three-point recap that you might profit without having to slog through the long list of who I drank with and what panels I attended. Giveaway for the strong.
1. DOGZPANK rocked. We packed our wing of Forest Room 5, made fast friends with our bartender, Duke, heard some truly great writing from some truly beautiful people, and recorded the whole thing for posterity (Roxane will undoubtedly be posting it soon, I’m sure). Look for the camera drop in the second act (preexisting condition + alcohol + altitude = hope you’re feeling better, L.). Special thanks to  our readers for burning it down:  Matthew Salesses,  Erin Fitzgerald,  Kathy Fish,  Pedro Ponce,  Lauren Becker, Bill Barr, Maggie Glover,  Nicolle Elizabeth,  JA Tyler,  Molly Gaudry,  Beth Thomas,  Jac Jemc,  Aaron Burch,  Angi Becker Stevens, and Tim Jones-Yelvington.
2. Our panel, The In Sound From Way Out, was well attended and discussion had to be cut off at the end, so there’s that. We had a couple of early evacuations during my intro when I announced to the audience that what they were largely going to hear at AWP amounted to a bunch of white hot lies, but that our panel was there to deliver them from evil. One writer in particular, I’m told, may have muttered the words “pompous ass” as she fled, or something to that general effect. I guess she took it less joke than hubris, but I vow to never again take our earthshatteringly important literary work so heedlessly light. Shame on me. That said, she should of stuck around because Jen Woods, Aaron Burch, James Grinwis, Margaret Bashaar, Roxane and myself had a really great conversation with the audience about the ins and outs of little magazine publishing. Thanks to all the panel members and to the aforementioned generous audience, wherever they may be.
3. The book fair was in a zeppelin hanger. I mentioned that, right? A tad overwhelming. I live in a cabin in Liminga, MI, and that’s not a euphemism for something else. Thousands of nerds come together for the literary equivilant of Comic-Con (don’t think for second AWP doesn’t have its costumes) ain’t generally my style of socializing. Yet I persevered, salved my social anxiety at the AWP wet bar (and with Hobart’s whiskey shots), and found myself pleased to be able to finally put so many faces to so many names and to meet so many new bright and shiny people. Plus, PANKsters, we moved every piece of merch we took to the conference, including a giant box of PANK fortune cookies that Roxane sold someone for $40. Sold out, brothers and sisters, amen.
And here you are at the bonus offer. Thanks for sticking to it. You thought daddy would come home, all this way, to his most beloved kids, empty handed? No way, my little bunnies, you’re the best. Send daddy a six-word story in the comments section below by Friday at midnight. I’ll pick my eleven favorites and the winners will receive one of the following in the mail: The Lumberyard 5, Redivider 7, Eleven Eleven 7, Versal 7, Agriculture Reader 4, Booth 1, Burnside Review 6.1, Fractions 2, Hobart 11, Artifice 1, or Annalemma 6.
And look for us next year in D.C. We’ll see you then if not before.
For sale: Engagement ring. Never worn.
Sleep on my floor in D.C.
8,000 people of any profession in one place is a bad idea. writers? super mega crazy idea. but brilliant nonetheless. stoked we managed to run in the same pack of wild animals a few times.
Joseph, above, should win the contest.
“Banana.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry. I forgot.”
“Truth.â€Â
“Do you like me?â€Â
“Dare…â€Â
aww shit. this ‘uns my fav
I do like this one a lot too.
Oh wait, I can’t play. Damn.
dogzpank: brilliant, embarrassing, epic and legendary.
He was something I could use.
Drunks with chainsaws ruined the funeral.
I hate when that happens.
He racked his brain. She broke.
Home early. “Missing Socks” mystery solved.
Great post. Good luck choosing a winner. And thanks for the support in Denver. Duke was our bartender’s name? That kid couldn’t have been less of a Duke. Hmm.
There’s dead skin outside the doghouse.
Remember the grass? The constant EAS?
Had so much fun. I can’t believe Lauren read. Blisters in her throat!
Gross!
P.S. Sorry to hear that, Lauren. Speedy recoveries . . .
(that you, molly?!) no, it really was/is gross!!! recoveries are coming along at a good pace thanks all for your kindness that evening. it was not my best …
I’ve been there, sister, and withOUT the blisters . . .
Like I said though, I thought the laryngitis actually added something to the reading proper… you were hilarious, oddly brilliant.
ok, this must now stop being about me. (quick thanks, tim — nice moves on the dance floor. i think there might be a becker jones-yelvington on the way …)
roxane and matt did a fabulous job with dogzpank on. i believe barry contributed the “dogz” and the lineup of readers was crazy good.
now get back to matt’s 6-word dictum or i’m gonna win all of the journals!!
laryngitis first. blisters an unrelated treat.
(see matt? i’m trying to follow your rules!!)
You deserve way more than a free magazine for that performance. And I’m with Tim, performed with laryngitis, oddly brilliant. As for embarrassment, I’m guessing every other person in that bar has occupied that seat or similar (perhaps, for those of us a little slow on the uptake, multiple times…).
i think your website ate my story and i can’t remember what i wrote
i was told in confidence that the PANK web master is actually pac man.
that makes sense because my story was shaped like a pretzel and worth many, many points.
david, this is exactly what i was afraid of.
Ronald’s wallet bulged. Lactaids, not condoms.
[...] There’s still time to enter our massive AWP haul giveaway. Comment here with your six word story until Friday at midnight. Other exciting giveaways are on the [...]
She was unconscious. He didn’t care.
not remembering the line, the curve
Drinking wine from Mom’s yartzeit glass
Slow: Children crossing.
Fast children too.
Attitude adjustment.
Let the rabbit stew.
Cigarette in beer can,
TV exploded.
Flynn’s severed head tells me things.
The neophyte dominatrix ignored safe words.
Hello lovely winners:
Dan Burt — Flynn’s severed head tells me things.
Xtx — “Truth.†“Do you like me?†“Dare…â€Â
Alyssa — Cigarette in beer can, TV exploded.
ASC — She was unconscious. He didn’t care.
Michael Rudin — Ronald’s wallet bulged. Lactaids, not condoms.
Lauren — Laryngitis first, blisters an unrelated treat.
Michael James — Remember the grass, the constant EAS?
Jon — There’s dead skin outside the doghouse.
Ben — Home early, “missing socks†mystery solved.
Doug Paul Case — He was something I could use.
Ravi — He racked his brain. She broke.
Send an up-to-date mailing address to awesome@pankmagazine.com, subject “six-word story winner” and we’ll send you a free magazine from our AWP haul. Thanks for playing!
I’ve been a reader for a protracted whereas, but that is my first time as a commenter. I just wished to say that this has been / is my favourite replace of yours! Keep up the great work and I’ll keep on coming back.