I spent last weekend with eighty-nine other wordaholics-- peole who were able to get high on words: spoken words, sung words, published words, and just plain talking words.
My friend Pam Shingler, who works at Appalshop, and I went to the Mountain Heritage Literary Festival at Lincoln Memorial University in Harrogate, TN, just across the line from Middlesboro, KY. The festival was started last year by Silas House, one of the brightest and best new Kentucky novelists, who is presently Writer in Residence at LMU. Many of the participants and faculty members were veterans of the Hindman Writers' Workshop, where I first met Silas House.
So far, Silas has not let his new-found acclain go to his head, as he was busy being the gracious host, seeing that every detail was perfect, and working as hard as the staff to see that the food was where it was supposed to be, and that all he had planned was as it should be.
The sessions ran from Friday afternoon through Saturday evening, ending with breakfast on Sunday morning. Sessions were provided for fiction, non-fiction, children's writing, and poetry. I chose non-fiction, which was taught by Sharon Hatfield, who is a teacher at a college in Ohio. The other leaders were Rita Quillen, poetry; Cathy Landis, fiction; and Paul Brett Johnson, children's writing.
I enjoyed a session on the Carter Family's music, which was conducted by musician Jason Howard, assisted by poets Jane Hicks, Rita Quillen, and Marianne Worthington. I was impressed that Rita Quillen's best friend at school was Jeanette Carter's daughter, and that Jeanette was the best cook in the world. The Carter family is from just over the line in Virginia.
The food was good old mountain food, including a mini Moon Pie, which was a quarter of the size I remembered, but tasted exactly like the last one I ate--about fifty years ago.
Friday evening's special entertainment was a play about Aunt Molly Jackson, a coal miner's wife who got run out of Eastern Kentucky in the early 1930's for edeavoring to get the miners organized. It was written and performed by Anne Shelby, who , I had thought was a children's book writer. She became Aunt Molly, as she sang the songs Aunt Molly had written, as she told Aunt Molly's story. I found myself startled when she became Anne Shelby again.
Another memorable event was the Jesse Stuart Lecture, given by Dr. Sylvia Lynch, a professor at LMU. She was inspired by Stuart's writing from the first time she read a story of his written in her own mountain vernacular. Jesse Stuart, James Still and Don West are LMU's most famous alumni.
The Festival had sponsored a contest for essays, short stories, poetry, and young adult fiction. You did not have to be present to win, and I knew only one of the winners. My traveling partner, Pam Shingler, received a second place certificate in the essay contest. I told her I was proud I knew her.
The main event, which was open to the public, drew many visitors. Earl Hamner, Jr. creator and narrator of the television show, The Waltons, was given the Lee Smith Award for properly representing the truth and dignity of Appalachia . He is a well-preserved eighty-four, and still has the stong soft Virginia voice that we loved as he opened and closed each session with John-boy and the other Waltons. The only concession to his age was that he talked sitting down behind a table spread with a lone-star patterned quilt. He said he retired to fish about thirty years ago, but got tired of fishing after three months and has written three books since.
I sold about thirty dollars worth of my books, and spent that as well as the fifty dollars I had allowed myself to spend on books written by the people who were at the festival. (Wordaholics , like other addicts-- spend all their money on books.) I read Anne Sheby's collection of collumns, Can a Democrat Get Into Heaven?, and got so many belly laughs--even if she was skewering some of my favorite politicians--that it was certainly worth being a little jealous, wishing I could write with that much wit.
It was a lovely weekend, and I saw several writer friends, got inspired to do more and better writing, got reacquainted with my geat and good former library assistant, who fell into assisting me as she did forty years ago, navigating the curves and valleys from Whitesburg to Harrogate effortlessly, and made it back home safely on Sunday afternoon.
My weekend was fun stepping around among the wordaholics--the big 'uns!
Other items by this author:
"To Kill a Mockingbird" is Fifty Years Old
A Friend in Need is a Friend Indeed
You Can't Do A Thing About the Weather
