As an AWP virgin, my first time at the conference was practically pain-free. Another Painted Bride intern and I picked up the 6th Annual Print of Painted Bride Quarterly straight from the printing center, packed up the car, and hit the road.
The convention was held in Boston this year, and I was lucky in the sense that my sister lives within walking distance of the convention center where AWP was held, allowing me the excuse of long meandering walks down Newbury Street during the snow storm that hit on Thursday on my way to and from her apartment.
The weekend was absolutely amazing, filled with a bunch of panels to choose from through out the day and many explorations through the book fair. The energy in any given room was tense, oddly and uncomfortably sexual at times, but still electric. (All it takes, apparently, is a good ole’ convention to get the nine-to-fivers on the prowl.)
The Literary Death Match, held on Friday night in Cambridge, had a great turn out, with an incredible reading by Andre Debuss III, who was crowned winner. We finished off Friday night by starting a Steppenwolf dance party at a hotel party we weren’t necessarily invited to. (Which is the best kind of dance party).