What Jane Wants to Do Most at AWP 2016

“Wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.” —Toni Morrison

2016 entered with expectations. The Year of the Monkey and the year Leonardo DiCaprio finally won an Oscar was also the year of my first AWP appearance since graduation, lucky number seven. I imagined how this sequel would unfold in Los Angeles: me with colorful business cards, me with a freshly-printed novel manuscript in my tote, me with the pitch scribbled across my life and head and heart line.

Not again.

Three years have passed since I last attended, a literary tradition with a couple soul sisters. I registered. I saved book and cocktail money. I compiled a list of writers and lit mags to hunt. I organized a conference schedule. I arranged plans with friends, made promises.

Not again.

I failed myself in all of those ways. No business cards because I barely have a business. No novel manuscript because it’s not in a printable, shareable state, let alone queryable or pitchable.

Not again.

Even after I was content arriving as myselfa work-in-progress, empty handed but full hearted—I couldn’t even succeed at that.

Not again.

Once again, money is a thing. This time, my bank account lacks deposits, and there are student loans and weddings and a burned-out tail light. I have credit cards and a modest savings but me, understanding the current state of things, cannot part with my tiny, high-interest securities.

Not again.

This is not the worst thing to happen to me. Not. Even. Close. Not this year. Or this month. I know how quickly things can turn, so I count my blessings. I kiss Waylon. I visit the library. I continue editing. I sit in the sun. I pass on the conference.

Not again.

I hope by sharing the things my cells will miss that I can hunch among the audiences, among friends, at booths and tables in spirit.


  • 1:30 pm to 2:45 pm – The Violence of the Page featuring Lucy Corin, Maggie Nelson, Brian Evenson, Ben Weissman, and Fred D’Aguiar. I bought Maggie Nelson‘s Bluets in Seattle last year, and I need to sit in the presence of the woman who experienced then thought then wrote, “Mostly I have felt myself becoming a servant of sadness. I am still looking for the beauty in that.”
  • 4:30 pm to 5:45 pm – American Tropics featuring Patrick Rosal, Tiphanie Yanique, Willie Perdomo, Christina Olivares, and Brandy Nalani McDougall. Because Hawai’i, and Land of Love and Drowning.
  • 7:00 pm to 9:30 pm at Wolf and Crane Bar – Crossing the Line: Genre-Curious Readings featuring Lily Hoang, Nicole Walker, and others, oh my! I’m a Japanese whisky virgin and who isn’t genre-curious?



This year’s theme, for me, seems to be newness. My What-Jane-Wants-to-Do-Most-at-AWP-2016 list has shed a lot of my long-term obsessions. Maybe I’m exhausted with the familiar, balancing-work-and-the-creative-life anxieties, the craft of drafts upon drafts. Even though it is comforting to revisit kindred spirits, hearts that beat and minds that think in similar ways, I need something else, but I’m not sure what. There is a lesson here.

Jane Recommends “…Things You Should Worry About While Writing A Novel” via LITERARY HUB

An excerpt from “Here Are The Things You Should Worry About While Writing A Novel” by Susannah Felts:

I worry that I have not done enough research. I worry that I’m spending too much time researching. I worry that people will think it’s not true to life. I worry that it’s too true to life and thus boring. I worry that there’s not enough plot. I worry that there’s not enough lyricism. I worry that there’s not enough hours in the day in the week month year life for me to ever finish it.


Jane says: I worry too.


Jane Recommends “On Privilege Guilt…” via THE ESTABLISHMENT

An excerpt from “On Privilege Guilt: My Fraught Path From Foster Care To Luxury High Rise” by Lisa Marie Basile:

I slept in the center of my room on a mattress on the floor, as did my younger brother. I would sleep with the window open in the summer, while friends slept in cool, three-story homes on the better side of town. Our dinner was funded by food stamps; we washed the plates immediately lest the roaches come. The memories are of my little brother’s bedroom. This room was the saddest of all. It didn’t have a window, and it was always dark, always filled with the sound of him playing by himself, a static television. I think now of the little pale boy, alone after school, sitting on his broken bed on the floor. How he didn’t know of the lack. How my mother took the living room couch as her bedroom. And the television with the aluminum foil.


Jane says: Like Lisa Marie Basile, I went into extreme debt (school, school and school) because I wanted to put distance between me and where I’m from. Separately, my parents have given me the “just-don’t-be-like-me” talks, and I can’t write a simple sentence about my childhood. When I remember, pain rushes to the surface, but when I sift, there is beauty too. (Or I choose to see beauty.) For a while, I fell asleep to the sound of the ocean and, later, trains. I know “I’m a poor girl at heart” because any time I think of the things that I have nowlove, safety, health insurance, some writing timeit’s hard to want, but I’m always working towards more. God, do I work. Because of where I’m from, I can’t rest. There is so much to say, too many people like me out there with pain like mine, and time is precious; time is privilege. In fact, I’m so happy I keep thinking someone is going to steal all that is good from me because where I’m from not a lot of dreams come true. I keep splashing my face with cold water and, still, this is my life. Maybe one day I will share my story. Thank you, Lisa Marie Basile, for sharing yours.