Carolina Mountains Literary Festival 2009

"The Mountain Mosaic" was the theme of this year's festival and things kicked off Friday morning with a panel discussion of the various peoples who have been a part of the mountainn culture. Gloria Houston, Eleanora E. Tate, Wayne Winkler, and Robert J. Conley spoke of their respective works chronicalling the experience of the European immigrants, the African Americans, the Melungeons, and the Native Americans.

This charming little festival, held in a charming little town nestled amid the North Carolina Mountains, is one of my favorites. Panels and readings are held in various venues -- the library fronting the town square, a book store, a coffee shop, an art gallery. It's a lovely way to spend a late summer day or two -- and it's free to the public.

My first talk/reading was held in an upstairs room above D.K. Puttyroot -- a tiny shop specializing in beautiful handmade paper items. A pleasantly intimate setting for lovers of reading!

I did two solo presentations, participated in a book club discussion with three other authors and the members of assorted book clubs, and shared the stage with Hal McDonald, a professor from nearby Mars Hill College, whose debut novel THE ANATOMISTS was the winner of Court TV's "Search for the next great crime writer."

Not surprisingly, the chance to relax in the late afternoon with other authors over a glass (or several) of wine and wonderful little nibbly bits was most welcome.

And sitting and chatting in this beautiful little coutyard with Suzanne Adair, whose novels are set in the South at the time of the American Revolution, and Richard Allen Taylor, poet and co-editor of Kakalak, it was easy to feel a part of the mosaic of Carolina writers. Such a pleasure to spend time with other writers and hear about their work.

The picture below has nothing to do with the festival but I was intrigued by the sight of the Burnsville public library building, so ivy covered that the upper windows are blocked. What must it be like inside those rooms? Something like being under sea?

And who or what might lurk there, behind the leaf-shuttered windows . . . peeking out at the world below . . . watching . . . waiting . . .