Home, joy, perky again after a good night’s sleep in my own beloved bed. Looking out at the snow with Tiggy on my lap, I drank my morning coffee from one of the three things I brought back in my small carry-on: a bright yellow painted mug from the ceramic centre Dolores Hidalgo. (Along with a pretty piece of folk art and my new friend Jennifer Selig’s book on memoir.) Out later to buy birdseed for the poor birds, watched poor Canadians struggling on snow-lined sidewalks with bundle buggies or strollers — grateful I can walk, carry birdseed in a backpack, do not have an infant.
You need to be tough to be Canadian. And we are.
Have spent hours catching up with email and managing my household and work affairs after only two weeks away. But now I’ll review for you a few of the bon mots from the last day of the conference.
Margaret (aka “Peggy”) Atwood – as always caustic, brilliant, very funny.
What’s going on now politically is a way of killing poor people. Capitalism has decided it doesn’t need a workforce.
Authoritarian regimes always collapse from inside.
Rich people have more in common with each other around the world than with poor people in their own countries — why all the royal families of Europe are connected, why Prince Phillip was Greek. We are going back to the old days of royalty.
Nonfiction is one version of events. Fiction is THE version. People believe fiction more than non. They read fiction to get out of the real world and create their own reality. They invest in the story. [Author’s note: this nonfiction writer does not necessarily agree.]
The healing power of purring: It’s been proven that if you have a migraine and put a purring cat on your head, you’ll feel better. How you get it to stay there is the problem.
Canada has always been a place to escape to.
Asked about “tradwives”: Part of the endless cycle of people telling women what to do. It was a mistake of second wave feminism to downgrade women at home and accuse them of “sleeping with the enemy.” Many women like sleeping with the enemy.
Do not tell writers what to do. Or you’ll be back in the Soviet Union. Let them do what they do.
Plenary panel – many of the keynote writers on stage answering questions.
Jorge Hernandez: I am always narrating. When I get on the metro, a voice says, “And then I got on the metro.” Then it says, “And then he got on the metro, and …”
I am thinking of writing a new novel called 100 Years of Solitude. But my agent doesn’t like the idea.
After writing memoir, I meet people who are already friends, even if I don’t know them.
John Vaillant: Air conditioning is the technology of forgetting. We forgot what it costs the planet to keep ourselves comfortable.
Go straight from sleep to writing. Don’t open email or read the paper first. Do yourself the honour of using that liminal space.
Clear the internal noise. It never gets easier. It’s a privilege to take on the hardest topic you can. It helps to have people who believe you can do it.
Someone: Liv Ullman once said, “Writing is a job. I have four hours, and I work.” Give yourself deadlines.
Percival Everett: celebrated American author, was supposed to be a keynote but could not come, appeared on Zoom.
The human being is the only animal that blushes. Or has any reason to.
Art is almost necessarily political. Any work that challenges the audience is important. Art can do a lot of work.
And finally:
John Irving – advice I give my students —
I wrote all my first drafts longhand. It’s a rhythm that slows me down.
Friends, my travelling is over, for now. (Am booked to go to France in April, though at the moment the thought of being in an airport fills me with trepidation.) Despite some difficulties, this journey was 100% terrific. The conference was a fabulous experience, beautifully organized, with talks by important and fascinating writers and with hundreds of fellow writers all talking about writing — marvellous and exhausting. I loved Mexico. However, I’m going take a short break from blogging to get groceries, pay bills, and shovel snow.
I’m sure you can use a break too.




4 Responses to “Final travel post from your trusty correspondent”
Take a well-deserved rest from blogging. Your Mexican adventures were wonderful to read. However, I don’t recall reading any detail about your own workshop on Sunday morning. Did I miss it? Hope it went well and your participants appreciated your wisdom and engaging style.
Pat, I did mention that the workshop was sold out at thirty people and went well. At least, everyone who spoke to me afterwards was pleased. One woman came up later and said, “I had an epiphany!” Good news. I’ve been doing this for a long time and know what I’m doing. It may not suit everyone, but I give them the best I can offer. Thanks for following my travels.
Beth, I am home today after a couple of weeks south of where you were (though with less flight drama). Such light! I enjoyed every minute and coming back seemed sort of anticlimactic: rain, grey Vancouver (after brilliant Oaxaca), and even the earthquake as we drove up the highway towards our home felt…subdued. But I have a notebook filled with (longhand) scribbled, little drawings of textiles I loved at my favourite museum, a carpet to spread by my bed to keep the brilliance of that part of Mexico near and dear. What will we make of it, I wonder? I look forward to your account in tranquility…
Welcome home! Yes, I read about the earthquake and wondered about you. I am still decompressing from an intense two weeks, and dealing with the extreme snow here. But I love Mexico, loved my time there, am glad you have such great souvenirs. Amazing that once again, as they did when we were younger – Ireland – Greece – our travel plans align.