I've worked/volunteered for my city's literary festival since it started several years ago.
I hooked up with the fest because I was in love with Steve Almond. I had just read his somewhat pornographic collection of short stories -My Life in Heavy Metal- and it made me pant not only sexually but pant in the way someone pants when he/she aspires to be a writer and you get all hot and bothered over someone else's sentences or cadence or articulation.
I checked out Steve's website and discovered he was coming to our first ever lit fest so ....quick as a bunny...I signed up to help at the fest....making sure the person I talked to on the phone at the festival office clearly understood that if Steve was going to be at the festival, I wanted to do something (anything) with his session. She said, "We can arrange that" and I swooned.
She also mentioned that he was attending the Author Party the night before the fest and I could buy a ticket and perhaps have a chat with him.
Sealed and done deal. I found the object of my lust at the party... gathered my courage....sauntered up to him... and said "I really like your writing." Perhaps not those exact words... but something equally as lame and nerdy. I also pointed out, I would help him with his session tomorrow....he did not seem impressed.
The next day, my job was to help Steve cut up and distribute pieces of chocolate for his session's audience.....it appears his next book, unfortunately, was not about sex ....but candy.
I noted during the course of the morning working at an arm's length from him.... that he had one long hair coming out of his nose ....which cooled my adulation of him considerably.
He also started talking to another author as I was helping him with his books and never recognized me, his adoring fan, from the night before and of recent chocolate cutting duty.... which made me realize....these guys were...alas....just regular folks doing their jobs.
But I was hooked on the literary festival after that....because it was so damn exciting to work with and be around writers and listen to their stories and passions close up.....it made my soul light up....to be near all those lofty and funny and clever and insightful sentences.
The second year of the festival.....they asked me to work with the authors.....help arrange transportation....answer questions about coming to our town....and make sure they were treated well and their needs for their sessions and their stays were met.
Writers are creative people....and many times I felt like I was herding cats during the festival....but outside of a lot of anxiety.....I accumulated some great stories.
One of my favorite stories is about Christopher Hitchens.
Christopher Hitchens was, of course, an "A" list author and big "scoop" for our young literary festival. His book, "God is Not Great" had just come out....and he was at the very beginning of a huge surge of interest and popularity as the result of his book chugged up the charts.
He was going to land at 8am.....breakfast with his sponsors.....then do a festival session ( a one hour talk followed by questions) at 1pm.....then hit the airport to catch a flight to a major lit fest out west.
Since he was a big name author....I sent my most trusted person to pick him up at the airport and bring him to a hotel where his sponsors were waiting . I was at the hotel already...not only to keep an eye on him but also because our lit fest was just blocks away from this place and many of our authors were staying in the hotel.
My cell phone rang...."Well, I got Hitchens but he doesn't look good."
"What?"
"Well, apparently he partied till 5am....hopped on the plane at 530....kept partying....and it shows."
"OH No!"
In the next second, Hitchens passed by me...and although he was ..disheveled....and a bit woozy.....he had 4 hours to pull himself together.....Authors are tough....he could do it.
So I stopped worrying....a good breakfast....a little freshening up....and he probably would be just fine.
Thirty minutes before his appearance, I started asking around....where's Hitchens? Anyone see him? He was supposed to meet with his moderator, a very respected local reporter and writer, and he was a no show.
I got a little nervous. But hey, he was only a few minutes late. People aren't always punctual.
Ten minutes later.....his moderator looked annoyed (he wanted to chat, ask some questions before their appearance together).
Now I was sweating.....there were 200 people sitting in a room plus a standing audience and he was nowhere to be seen....plus a local big shot reporter was get miffed.
So I starting dialing up folks on my cell phone....."Have you seen Hitchens??"
15 minutes to show time....no Hitchens.
My cellphone rang....."He's at the bar down the block."
WHAT???? He's supposed to be ON in 15 minutes!
One of my volunteers passes by in a golf cart we used for transporting books. I grab the girl and tell her to go to the bar and get Hitchens ...NOW.
I stood outside the venue....panicking....our biggest name author...drunk? unable to stand? unable to go ON? My neck's red...my checks are red....I'm sure I'm going to faint.
A couple of minutes later Hitchens arrives sprawled out in the golf cart....I grab him and pull him out of the cart...."Are you okay?"
He smiles....His eyes are bloodshot...his shirt and tie askew...he looks a wreck.
"Your session starts in 10 minutes.....we've got a packed house."
"Yes Ma'am" he says.....he straightens up.....I brush his shirt, he rearranges his tie and I lead him to his moderator.
In the course of one minute.....he transforms....into a PRO.
He extends his hand....gives a firm handshake to the moderator....and begins chatting.
I point the way to the room as the moderator and Hitchens quickly talk strategy.
His eyes are bloodshot, his shirt not perfect.... I stand in the back of the room...holding my breath.....then he begins......he's totally coherent and begins weaving his magic with the audience.
He's smart...on target....captivating....questioning....ready for the audience questions....and I'm stunned....this was the man I pulled out of a golf cart ten minutes ago looking like he didn't know who, what or where.
He was on his plane by 3:30pm and probably started his next round of partying....and somewhere out west ....another festival coordinator was gong to panic.
Today....when I read the tributes to him....I noticed how often people mentioned his taste for parties, drink and smokes....but despite his lack of sleep or his consumption of alcohol....he completed his assignments and met his writing obligations.
In my small corner of the world.....I nodded and said...."Yes, he could do that....I've seen it with my own eyes."
What an interesting man.
