Fiction Fun Time Potluck

Mar 28, 2011 16:50

What in the hell is a Fiction Fun Time Potluck, you ask?

The mixing of writerly folk at my 2nd floor, bungalow apartment on a Saturday night.

Part I:  FOOD!

I made vegan sloppy joes, cornbread and cupcakes.

Full truth, I was still cooking when people were arriving round 7 p.m. I'm blaming that on getting home from work at 6. I was chopping green peppers and onions were simmering and I was running scattered and the homemade icing was thawing and then people were strolling in with food and the table was only partial cleared and it took me a breath to shut EF EF EF I AM NOT READY out of my head. Because it was fine. It was better than fine. Potlucks don't work right when nobody brings food and I had no problem with that. My kitchen table was covered with everything from oranges and taco dip to Jim Beam and donuts.



Part II:  READING!

Folks ate and cruised around until abt a quarter till eight. Then I herded everybody into the living room...wherein there was a half circle of chairs facing the reader's chair.

There was an O'Neill in presence, a Cooney, a Detzner, a Penkas and a whole lotta other folks. All told and self included, thirteen. Anymore and it woulda been standing room only in my living room for the reading and there were folks on the floor, as it was.

Ten folks brought stories or excerpts to read from! Ten breathing, beautiful writers read in my living room. Everyone got abt ten minutes to
read. Ish. There were tales of how to cure a werewolf's curse, god lizard mothers, Christopher Marlowe, manual stimulation..., bad man clowns and more. It was altogether a pleasing and ridiculous evening.

Part III:  HMM...

I tend to be hermit-kin. I don't mind going out to a show or dinner, but I rarely invite more than one person at a time to my home. I could blame it on working with the public and being sick of people, but I think it is more that I am selfish. I am selfish with my time. I am selfish with my special things. It takes a bit to nudge me into sharing my time, my space, my home. But I'm glad I did. I don't think I could have readings every month...but every three months or so isn't out of the realm of possibility.

Ever get the hankering to have your own reading, either at your house or somewhere else? C.S.E. Cooney wrote on the subject at Black Gate Magazine. Check it.

Speaking of Cooney, here she is. With me. Being Perfectly Ladylike. Nevermind that she read a story about a woman who was not a woman who was slowly eating a man and I read a story that had the words "saturated heaving" and "hell-bugs."



Another bonus about readings at your place.... leftovers. I have helltons of leftovers even though lots of folks brought food home with them.

Time for Salt and Vinegar chips.

readings, writers

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