I am a couple of glasses of wine down and a bit sleepy after three nights in Wellington with little sleep. No, I haven’t been partying all week. I was studying for a work course that would have resulted in public humiliation if I wasn’t prepared well enough on the last day.
Tomorrow is my birthday, and I have been gushing all over social media about how I am spending my Birthday this year at the Auckland Writers Festival. I am so excited, you have no idea!
My prelude to the weekend was the free event “Chris & Tom write a book” where two Youtube stars interviewed three bonafide authors: James Gleick (Time Travel: A History, Karyn Hay (The March of the Foxgloves), and Frances Hardinge (The Lie Tree). I knew very little about these three authors – which isn’t as surprising as it sounds. I know very little about quite a few of the authors I will be listening to this weekend. Part of the joy of the festival will be finding new authors to love!
I am way too tired, and probably a bit too drunk, to go into too much detail about the show. But it was good. I laughed a lot, learnt some new words, and listened to three very intelligent and interesting people talk about something I love – books!
I have also been introduced to a new (to me) author – Frances Harding. As I listened to her speak I thought “I like this woman. I could be friends with this woman.” She’s so quirky and interesting and you just know she’s probably a massive geek. Unfortunately, I have zero chill. I ran off and bought her book, came back, and waited patiently for her to finish talking to someone so she could sign it. I then fangirled like an utter muppet. “Thank you! I really enjoyed you. I mean listening to you. Can you make it out to Annette please? And um…what was that word you used? Can you write that too? I wish I could come see you again but I’m going to watch someone else instead. Gosh – thank you so much! Ummm, bye…”
I am so smooth. I wanted to ask her which of her books she loves the most, and whether she turns into a mad woman after writing for 17 hours straight. Instead I basically told her she’d been bumped from my schedule in favour of George Saunders. Thanks awkward introvert brain.
Anyway, I need my beauty sleep. Jane Eyre starts the day tomorrow at 10.30am!
Sesquipedalian (it’s the word Frances mentioned tonight. It basically means “wordy” but it’s so musical and flowy to say. It is a glorious word!)