Saturday, February 14, 2009

AWP in Chicago

I am in Chicago. It is that time when students and teachers of writing come together and talk about writing. It is the AWP (Association of Writers and Writer's Programs) conference. Look here for details about the conference.

This is only my second AWP conference. My first was also in Chicago. Next year it will be in Denver. Next, Washington D.C. The first year, I was an observer; this year I'll be on a panel called "The Bowling Green Five." We, the Bowling Green Five, are the core members of the Creative Writing program, and each of us will talk about a favorite writing assignment we give our students and then illustrate the assignment by reading something from our own work. We present tomorrow afternoon.

Today I went to three presentations. They were impressive and caused me to change my idea about my own presentation a dozen times. But I have gone all the way back to the beginning and will be doing what I originally planned. After the presentation, I'm charged with sharing something about Philip F. O'Connor at an evening reception. He was my teacher and mentor when I was a graduate student.

I'll write as soon as I can about how it goes.

1 comment:

ggw07 said...

What a fantastic Valentine's Day! Have a blast in Chicago!



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Northwest Ohio, United States
"I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken


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Fave Painting: Eden

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Fave Painting: The Three Ages of Man and Death

Fave Painting:  The Three Ages of Man and Death
by Albrecht Dürer

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The Secret of Hurricanes : That article in the Waterville Scout said it was Shake- spearean, all that fatalism that guides the Kennedys' lives. The likelihood of untimely death. Recently, another one died in his prime, John-John in an airplane. Not long before that, Bobby's boy. While playing football at high speeds on snow skis. Those Kennedys take some crazy chances. I prefer my own easy ways. Which isn't to say my life hasn't been Shake-spearean. By the time I was sixteen, my life was like the darkened stage at the end of Hamlet or Macbeth. All littered with corpses and treachery.

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