Dear denizens of the blogosphere, do forgive me. I’ve fallen terribly behind not only in terms of updating but in terms of responding to comments and reading all of the other blogs I so enjoy reading and generally being a communicative member of Internet society. It’s been a very busy few weeks, and I think that the fact that I’ve only skipped one night of NaPoWriMo (which I later made up by a two-poem-day) must certainly be a miracle.  Or insanity.  I can’t quite make up my mind about which prevails.  In the past week alone, I’ve driven over a thousand miles, fueled by a thousand liters of Diet Dr. Pepper. However, the frenetic frenzy has, beyond any slim shadow of a doubt, been worth it. There are several bits of Very Excellent News from the Emma Bolden Camp. One piece of Very Excellent News I shall save for later. For now, I can only say that it is a Doozie of a Piece of News, and the cause of much joy and celebration.

One piece of Very Excellent News I shall now share: I found out yesterday that I received a Tennessee Williams Scholarship in poetry for the Sewanee Writers’ Conference. I am absolutely thrilled about this, and can’t wait to revisit that beautiful place, or to work with such amazing writers!

Last weekend, I attended the Alabama Book Festival, which turned out to be a humdinger of an event. This year, Jeanie Thompson organized a poetry-only tent. I hope I’ll be forgiven for the following entry — I once read one blogger (I thought this appeared on Poetry Snark, but I can’t seem to find it) absolutely eviscerate another blogger for an entry of this sort, accusing her of attempting to manipulate Google results. I have no real understanding of how Google actually works, other than through pure magic and wonder which I suspect could only be created by tiny joyous fairies, and so can honestly say that I’m not doing that. My intention is simply to squee like the poetry fan girl I so often am, and couldn’t help being at the Festival.

The morning began with my reading with Bruce Alford, who read some moving and resonant new poems. Alas, I fear that just as I am forever fated to miss Feist in concert, I am also forever fated to miss hearing Jake Adam York and Dan Albergotti read. I first missed them a few months ago in Auburn, when my 103 degree fever prevented me from attending their reading at the art museum; this time, I was signing books. Egads! However, I now have copies of A Murmuration of Starlings and The Boatlands, and can at least imagine what a reading would be like. I no longer have to imagine, however, how amazing it would be to hear Natasha Tretheway read. Her reading ranged through all three of her collections, and found me crying, publicly, twice. During no other poetry reading have I cried, publicly, twice. Not only was her work incredibly powerful, Ms. Tretheway herself was as kind and accessible and gracious as can be, and should definitely be considered a poetry superhero. I took a lunch break after this reading, but returned to the tent to hear Louie Skipper’s reading. I was very much taken and inspired by the way he writes about faith, and look forward to reading more of his work. Nickole Brown and Doug Van Gundy, two Red Hen Press authors, gave an excellent reading. I found myself completely absorbed in Ms. Brown’s reading; her work has a raw, riveting, all-encompassing power that’s rare in contemporary poetry. Mr. Van Gundy’s reading began with some fiddle playing, as all events should, which served as an excellent introduction to his poems, which strongly convey a sense of place, celebrating the Southern landscape. Last but not least was Kate Gale, whose poems are powerful and direct as a knife blade, and told with an urgency that makes you pay attention.

In a word: squee! A fantastic event, and I’m humbled and honored to have been a part of it!

And now, dear readers, Emma needs to catch up on something else she has definitely missed a great deal: sleep. But first, a student sent me this photograph today, due to my propensity to talk about Whitman and All About Eve in class. How happy am I to have both combined in one photograph?

(I especially love the expression on her face, which seems to be some strange combination of complete disdain and utter boredom. She must not have gotten to the good parts yet.)