So here we are settled in Wellington, New Zealand. For those of you that don’t know, it is the capital city, but still quite small and intimate. A friend told me that one of the amazing things about Wellington is that if someone puts on an event, usually the entire city shows up to support it. I saw this in action Saturday night.
I surf the web in my spare time looking for jobs or interesting things, when I came across this idea of a LitCrawl. Basically, the premise was that they would gather all these local writers and have people go to hear them. They had so many different venues going on that it was not possible to see them all, and in fact this would create further conversations. A tailor made experience for all.
So, gathering up my courage, I wrote the organizers and said I’d love to help. Although I’m not quite sure why orange was the colour chosen, I don’t look too bad in my volunteer gear:
I started at Ferret bookshop with the theme of rejection. I preferred the rejection letters themselves since I am, at the moment, on the receiving end of so many of these. Failure loves company. The place was packed out, and more people who showed up late kept knocking on the door to get in, so in the end we left it open. This was good because of the much needed air circulation to keep the smell of HUMANS at bay, but it did mean that the man standing outside shouting could be heard by all. Critique of anyone’s work, including my own, is full of strange vagueness that I never can understand. I feel like I missed that day at school where they taught you what “sharpen your argument” means and “it drags here”. You know what I mean.
Next I was off to the Embassy Theatre. Here is when my friends ditched me, but it was okay, I was ‘working’. This place was absolutely jammed full. The problem was that the mike wasn’t loud enough. Everyone inside loved the event, but since I was standing outside with the donations box, I got quite an earful from various people. Most were polite.
When it finished, it ended late, and people stayed to finish up their drinks, I ran over to the Little Beer Quarter to see a third event for fun. On the way–some dude spit on me! Okay, it was an accident, but it was disgusting. I haven’t yet recovered from the incident.
I missed the first speaker, but again, it was a full house, and I LOLed a little to often for comfort.
I hope I can help again. I feel inspired. Oh yes, and one last quirky thing about the event were the random letter boxes. You were to write something–anything and address to someone you don’t know.
This was the bright orange writing station (with a performer in the background)
Apparently Chris tried to get a letter to me, but it seems to have ended up with a beautiful American lass wearing orange that Chris doesn’t know. So to that girl, and in the words of my sister, “STEP OFF MY MAN!”