I got to the conference site a few minutes before eight and was able to enjoy the nice croissants and coffee set-up that was provided. This welcomed nourishment, my second breakfast of the day, was necessary fortification for the day ahead. The workshop sessions began. First on the agenda was a program about the major changes that are going on in the publishing industry. The panel consisted of three published authors, one of whom is an editor for Penguin Books, and a literary agent who specializes in helping authors who self-publish. It was a very lively and informative group. Self-publishing is definitely something a modern day poet needs to consider. In my case, without academic credentials or connections, I have very little chance (zero in fact) of being published conventionally. These panelists offered hope.
The next part of the morning activity was the presentation of a paper about religions in science fiction writing. The presenter talked about Vonnegut and a couple other writers and made some interesting points. However her paper, full of excellent and interesting content as it might have been, was read in a less than passionate way which made it a little duller than last night’s Chinese menu. She was followed by another panel discussion led by two authors who have written works of speculative fiction, as opposed to science fiction, and it was a livelier presentation. All of which proves, I guess, that speculation is better than science.
That all finished at about 11 a.m. and I went off to contemplate my 11:30 meeting with an editor from some big ass publishing company. So I went to the hotel bar and ordered a beer to help the contemplation along. Folks who know me know that I don’t usually quibble about the prices of things. But at eleven in the morning being hit with a bill of eight bucks for a glass of beer is a shock to one’s sense of right and wrong. My inclination was to put up a fuss. But, since the cost of beer distracted me from the nervousness of my imminent meeting, I remained quiet. The meeting with the young editor fellow went fine. He offered a thoughtful critique on three of my poems and a cupful of sympathy for the plight of poets in today’s literary world. He didn’t really have any fresh suggestions about the road to publication and didn’t start drooling when I showed him my full manuscript. In fact he just handed the thing back to me and wished me luck.
Instead of having a few more beers, which was what I really felt like doing, I wandered back up to Canal Street and got some Popeye’s chicken for lunch. Popeye’s seems to be the ubiquitous cuisine of Louisiana. Those places are all over and they are all busy. The food is good and hot, cheap and filling. That’s my recipe for haute cuisine. Then I went back to the hotel room to freshen up (such a feminine euphemism) and relax before my next appointment with the agent lady. To fill in the rest of the time before the meeting I built myself up into a state of high anxiety. I’m good at that.
My meeting with the literary agent went fine. She owns her own company and specializes in advising authors (usually female authors) about using non-conventional routes to publication. Her company will evaluate (or “vet” as we say in the book biz) a manuscript and then guide the thing either to an editor on her staff or help the author through the self-publishing process. She was a very nice person and was quite enthusiastic about my poems. Since her company deals only in fiction and non-fiction book length stuff written by women, she didn’t offer to take up the cause of getting me published. She did give me a couple of leads to publishers she knows and she was eager to tell me that she would write notes of reference for me. That was nice. So it was a good meeting with some nice feedback and a couple of possibilities for further contacts, as well as several suggestions about how to get started on the self-publishing route.
That was that for the day’s activities and I decided to stroll down towards the river and Jackson Square. That enabled me to experience some of the tourist ambience of New Orleans which is more than a little strange. Tourist activity in this city seems to be divided between walking around the streets drinking and that other time honored tradition of watching crazy people. A companion to the crazy people watching is listening to some very good “street” music played by crazy people. Besides that there is a sub-genre of street music played by crazy young and very dirty people. There is art on display all around Jackson Square but it’s nearly inaccessible due to the proliferation of Tarot card readers and fortune tellers. From what I could see though, the art is either darkly weird stuff on canvasses made from strange materials, or it consists of layer after layer of brightly colored acrylic or oil paint knifed onto regular canvas until the paintings are several inches thick. Even little pictures the size of a sheet of regular paper must weigh five or six pounds. Judging from the prices on these creations I do think they’re sold by their weight.
After walking around for some time I stopped in the Crescent City Brewery and Pub for a nice dinner and a tall beer. Once again the price of beer in this city made me grab for my wife’s credit card because there was no way I would pay those prices with my own money. My New Orleans style dinner consisted of Pennsylvania’s finest beer, Buffalo chicken wings and a German sausage dinner plate with Idaho potatoes and New York state sauerkraut. It was delicious. Then I made the trek back to my hotel where I settled in for the night. Another good day had come to a close.
No comments:
Post a Comment