From Tuesday afternoon to Saturday lunch, we had wonderful literary overload here in West Jefferson with mesmerizing author presentations and insightful and inspiring workshops. Also, lots of great stuff to steal for my classes and books to bring to other readers and writers galore.
This year, our 11th, was no different in that the week before I was questioning my sanity. It's a lot of work. And, I volunteered to do the wrap-up discussion for the Festival Read book. I had such angst. Stupid, of course. It went fine. Everyone said so. But you know that old saying about the "expert from afar" it really is true.
It was a really great festival. We had stellar attendance at every single event, and plenty of new people, too. Even though hurricane Florence was barreling down on NC, our only cancellation was our big draw, Tracy K. Smith, the poet laureate of the United States. She was rightly worried about getting the hell outta here when she was finished with us. She'll come another time late, and we'll make a big deal out of her again!
Now, it's raining buckets. It started just about the time we finished up yesterday. Looks like it'll continue through the night. I'm reading an advance copy of one of our Festival author's new books while it's pounding our roof. Henry says a huge limb has come down off our giant poplar tree out back. Guess that's what I heard fall when I was taking my marathon bubble bath this afternoon...after my nap.