2000-11-12 1:35 am
Book Fest
The book festival was a treat, as usual. I heard a panel with John Kelso and Joe Nick Patoski and Bob Phillips and one with Shelby Hearon and Jane Roberts Wood. I heard Mary Karr read from her new autobiography Cherry. All in all I was inspired to come home and write.
Did I? Hell no. What the crap is wrong with me? Why do I veg or do anything but write? It is really a drag. I have this huge perfectionist block on so many things I do. Why bother starting when I know it will not be perfect so, therefore, not worth doing? I feel that way about my paintings, quilts, drawings, cooking, cleaning, sewing, etc. etc. etc.
Of course, I finally get over here where I should write and instead I do some surfing and use this diary as a cheap excuse (and I do realize this is not writing like I want to do) and then when I truly believe I'll open a new file and write, I get the call from Mark that the gig is over and he's on his way home and will be here in ten minutes. His fault? Of course not. I had thirty plus years before him to write that I didn't take advantage of so I can't blame him for my failures over the last eight.
On a brighter note (this will be short since he'll be here soon), I am going to get to do some voice over work here in town. Whoo-hoo. That has really made my week and made me walk cocky (I just made that up). I got the call Friday that they liked me and they want to use me soon. I hope they call Monday so the suspense about the actual work will be over soon. AND so the money will start rolling in. Ha.
Two more things about the Book Festival. I had spent the better part of the day at the Capitol laughing at clever authors' remarks, smiling at the nice readers in the hallways, seeing Sarah Bird there as a participant and talking to Marcia Ball, also there just as a participant, enjoying the ambiance of educated people. THEN, I step out of the front doors of the capitol to find hundreds of people yelling. People over here with Gore/Lieberman signs and handwritten signs that said "Free the Florida 19000" and over here people with Bush/Cheney signs. Everyone was yelling and chanting and between the two groups were khaki clad Texas Rangers in broad Stetson hats standing immobile. I admire people that believe that strongly in something that they are willing to give of their time to protest, but then again, I'm glad I'm just staying out of it and letting the courts and the Floridians take care of it.
The other thing... I was at the book festival feeling "unknown." Feeling unknown? I AM unknown and no reason to be known. I was wishing, of course, that I had a published book and a book signing and would be on a panel, etc. I just wanted a few people to look at me and smile, even if they just thought I was important. I had the fleeting thought that I should have laminated some card and hung it around my neck in order to look official or made myself a name tag which would make some people think that they should know me. After the first panel, I stood up to see a very distant and dear cousin, the librarian in Comanche, Texas, coming toward me. It was wonderful to see her and quite a surprise. Gratefully, I realized I didn't have a false author nametag around my neck. It would have been a little hard to explain to her. "Oh, this? I didn't tell you about my new novel that just came out when I was at your library in Comanche only six weeks ago?"