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Residency, Day 10: Odd Bit of House

This is a quirky little house. I don't think I've really ever mentioned that. When the wind blows and whatever twigs and leaves see fit to dance on the roof, the noise it makes is like people stepping up there. When the wind starts to do that, the door to the living room opens by itself, no matter how tightly I've shut it, and it creaks in the middle of the night. Every night, there are the tiny squeaks and taps of an old little house.

There's that Communist party pin that belonged to the original occupant everyone says is an artifact of the place. I first saw it when Jim, local hanger-on, brought it out at my literary dinner. Seems the thing poked him in the thumb when he was gardening one day. It's a lovely little pin. I rather liked it. They tried cleaning it up with Coke. The poor little thing's rotting with rust. I keep planning to grab some vinegar and rub it down one of these days.

Today was possibly one of the most boring days I've had in recent Residency history. The Writefree women's writing group was having its 10th anthology launch, and it was something of their 10th anniversary to boot. Writefree is by far one of the most organized writing groups I've met. I was there when they were prepping for this event last week. I tried to help a little bit when they came in to arrange tables and such, but there were so many people it got to me really quick. I am usually lousy help for everything too, so it probably was to everyone's benefit I stayed out of their way. Writefree also appears to organize the best morning teas ever -- the little finger snacks they brought with them were divine. I plonked myself next to the savouries, leaning against the piano. Jim came over to make a lousy joke about how stuffing myself now meant I could save on tea.

I had three finger sandwiches (salmon & capers and egg & cress), one strip of Turkish bread and garlic cream dip, a handful of carrot sticks to mop up leftover dip, a bread stick to clear up the last bit of dip on my plate and a not-macaroon. Something to say about a writer's centre -- they don't run out of snackies.

I autographed a nice lady's copy of the anthology in question, Johanna was her name, even though I said I wasn't in it. Twas sweet of her to ask. Turns out she was a friend of Elona, hope I spelled this right, who was the lovely little hunchbacked lady who prepared morning tea for Writefree last week, and she's just a lovely old soul. I spoke to her this morning, because she was the first to arrive, and she was telling me these stories about coming to Australia, spending 10 years building a house by hand while hauling around 5 kids.

The boring part about the whole launch, in case you wondered, was having nothing to do in a mass of people, and having to escape the mass of people before they really made me twitchy. I do not like, and frankly do not get along with, crowds of people. Stick me in a crowd of leaves or something, I'm usually happier.



Nov. 27th, 2006 04:45 am (UTC)
Seriously? If I could spend all my time alone, I'd do that. I truly do not mind the occasional natter with one or two writers (I've been sitting down with Chris on his tea breaks a lot). I freak out in crowds -- hence why I mysteriously disappeared from the Writefree antho launch yesterday. Which is to say I usually find it frustrating. As writer-in-res I feel obligated to help people critique their work (Chris says I don't have to, but I try). and ripping people's work apart makes me feel a bit happier about the deal. But again, if I could avoid interaction entirely, I would.

I do have a pet hatred for the types who send me every last thing they ever wrote even the single-paragraph descriptions of fanfic.
Nov. 27th, 2006 05:53 am (UTC)
Crowds are worrisome and cumbersome things, crowds of vainglorious wannabes doubly so.

Fan fiction is notable only for being a contradiction in terms.