I read a lot of blogs, which may tend to get in the way of me writing on my own. Most of the blogs I read fall into these categories: personal reflections on life (like mine), education (tis who I am), and writers/writing (tis who I want to be). So a good chunk of my reading has been postponed these past few days because the writers/writing category have been gallivanting in Atlanta at the annual AWP conference. AWP is the Association of Writers & Writing Programs (you can see why they shortened it to AWP). The conference is an excuse for the writers to get together and hobnob, muse about their success, or drink away their failures. I always imagined writers, when put together in a large group, were rather stuffy and pretentious, but AWP sounds like anything but. Consider me an AWP stalker. No, I did not actual go to Atlanta. Jeez, I can’t even afford to take a ski trip to New England. But for the past two years I have been living vicariously through the writers’ blogs that I read, and I love to hear of their AWP adventures.
I have been saying this for some time now – but I want to get back into writing. I need to find out whether I’m actually any good at it, or if I had writing teachers blowing smoke up my butt. (It is entirely possible that this is the case.) I haven’t found the inspiration to write… in almost a year. But, my mild depression I think might just be the kicker to get me going. My occasional but frequent enough sub jobs have made me itchy to write about American schools, students, and the inefficiencies of education. But in a fun, dry sarcastic sort of way. Fiction, memoir, poetry – it’s all open to suggestion. I want to try all forms, see which one carries me through – and maybe, someday, lands me at a table selling books at AWP.