North Carolina Literary Festival
So in my fantasy world I’m a published author. If you’ve known me for a long time, you know that occasionally I work on different writing projects, but you also know that clearly I’m not published. Otherwise I would be screaming about it at the top of my lungs. But while I’m waiting for my moment, the next best part in my fantasy world is getting to hobknob with other authors. Which brings me to the NC Literary Festival.
First of all, you need to understand that North Carolina is a prolific writing state. We have the most amazing collection of authors and illustrators ever. Really. We have every kind of author from Eric Carle to Nicholas Sparks, Jill McCorkle, Allan Gurganus, Reynolds Price…. you need a genre? We have an author. Maybe it’s because of the landscape and ability to move from the mountains to the beach in a day. Maybe it’s because of the huge number of teeny tiny towns, or maybe it’s in the water. Whatever it is, people in NC want to write. And our job is to appreciate their writing.
Which brings me to the North Carolina Literary Festival. I first ran into this when I was around 13 or 14 years old. My mother and I literally happened upon it one day in Chapel Hill. I promptly went on to purchase about a dozen books and lock myself in my bedroom the second we got home, devouring each of them. That was how I discovered Lee Smith. And that was how I made the connection that you really could write from anywhere. I don’t know where I thought people should write, but it blew my mind that people were writing novels and poems in the middle of the Piedmont.
Each year the festival rotates between State, Duke, and Carolina. You would think it would get testy because of basketball but everyone seems able to ignore the rivalry in order to get to the good stuff. Plus no one wanted to talk about the tournament this year. It was much nicer to talk about the programming at the Lit Festival or peruse a copy of Our State. Everything about this fabulous and it is free, minus the coffee bar that sits in the lobby of Hunt Library. No entry fees, no PARKING fees, not even a fee to watch who I consider a god of characterization, Richard Ford, stand before people and speak. Where they get you is in the books you inevitably have to purchase, have personalized and then pet like a small furry animal.
This weekend was the weekend of the NC Lit Fest. It was held at the Hunt Library at NC State (recently ranked #14 on the list of 50 of the world’s most beautiful libraries- go check it out here. You’ll be blown away. And you’ll need to go. Just to see the book bots in motion you should go. Take your family. Now, back to the festival. The festival is a whole long weekend dedicated to loving on reading and authors. It has everything from demonstrations to speakers and signings to activities for kids. My friend Stacey Lunden is an aerialist and she and her partner Jane do this aerial storytelling program. Like they swing from silks. Here’s a photo. I’m going to check and see if there is an actual website. Keep an eye out for them at other events.
But the most important part of being at the festival is being immersed in a group of people who adore reading and writing and appreciate it as an art. People who already know many of the authors or can’t wait to get to know them. I love that even as people are fighting education, and fighting the right and ability to read we are still supporting a festival that celebrates nothing but the love of everything reading.
Listening to a conversation between Allan Gurganus and Michael Parker, I was more than ever struck by the need for local writers. The need for writers to show up at this festival and be hilarious and engaging and impressive, but also be the kind of person you could live next door to for years without realizing that he or she was an accomplished author. Personally, I needed the event to push me back towards this keyboard, and remind me that I write for myself. That while I’m not paid to do it, and certainly don’t get to every day, my soul craves it as much as my legs crave a run.
