Fragments From Floyd

I have the sense that each letter I type is a grain of sand falling through the narrow neck of an hour glass. My honey-do list looms closer and closer as each character pours out my fingertips, and the urgency of another's agenda deadens the blogging nerves connecting brain and keyboard. We have company coming, and as far as one of us goes, that pushes blogging and writing to a very low priority. The hour glass is almost empty!

Beyond that, I'm hard pressed to glean nuggets from the past three days that anybody would be interested in hearing--not that such considerations have slowed me down one bit in the past 4 years of blogging. I've been away to the Appalachian Writers Association Conference on (the wireless-less) campus of King College in Bristol, TN. (Bristol, you may know, is bisected by the TN-VA border so half is in each state. I'm sure there's a story in how that inconvenient arrangement came about.) So I'm three days behind, and just catching up with emails and book keeping and getting names of people I met in Bristol into Outlook is a daunting task.

One good outcome of the weekend is that my book table was next to the Appalachian Authors Guild table. I joined the group to promote the book, and took the LAST slot for a table at the Highlands Arts and Crafts Festival in Abingdon, VA on August 5. I'll be sharing a spot with a young lady I met whose book of poetry and pictures I want to let you know about when I find out it has been released--hopefully in time for the Abingdon event. Oh, and I talked with the authors guild folks about their need for a blog--to show case participant author's events, and create a more interactive and timely presence for those who have their works with the guild. They were very excited about the prospects of such, and I'll be doing what I can to help with this.

I was hanging out down at the book tables Saturday morning with a half dozen other folks when Sharyn McCrumb walked in unexpectedly, for the plenary session and evening banquet. I got a chance to give her Slow Road Home, with the pages marked where I talk about my "appalachian epiphany" that she inspired. We chatted about Floyd, and about Floyd's racing history, since NASCAR is Sharyn's new passion. (Another young author at the conference has done a Bristol-and-racing book through Arcadia Press that seems to be selling well.) Anyhow, that was sort of an unexpected perq, even though the book might not get another look.

Also, I met and had the chance to get to know Robert Cumming, owner of Iris Press in Oak Ridge, TN. Iris Press is attracting interest from a variety of poets and authors, many of whom have books with the big guys in New York and elsewhere. The personal attention to both the authors who have books in process with Iris, and their uncommon detail to cover art, page layout and overall book quality seems to be drawing much good attention to a press that typically produces ten to fifteen books a year. In a very lopsided swap, Bob gave me four of his books--all poets with a heart toward nature--in exchange for my one. I look forward to being influenced by the voices in these books, and will share those thoughts and insights with you in coming weeks--when the storm of houseguests has passed.

Meanwhile, we've had a bear at the back door (while I was out of town!) AND the back door frame seems to have shifted and we can't get it open. (The dog is absolutely bewildered by this.) Why does everything break when you have company coming? Hmmm?