Running with the Big Dogs

At the book fair last Saturday, I was delighted to find myself on a panel with three writers whose work I deeply admire:

Pam Duncan is the author of Moon Women, Plant Life, and The Big Beautiful, beautifully and sensitively realized stories of women. Fred Chappell is a former NC Poet Laureate, recipient of many prestigious awards including the Bollingen Prize in Poetry, and the author of numerous novels and collections of poetry. And there was Ron Rash, poet and novelist, whose Serena I've already said a lot about here and his The World Made Straight here.

The panel was moderated by Newt Smith, professor of English at Western Carolina and the topic was the sense of place in our work -- we all write about the western North Carolina mountains.

I admit to a feeling of being the odd man out, the thorn amidst the roses. These writers are all natives with family ties to the area stretching back for generations -- me, I'm the transplant. And they're all "literary writers" whereas I'm a writer of genre fiction -- just a "paperback writer."

Now, neither the moderator nor any of the panel members made me feel anything less than a colleague and an equal. But I know that the perception exists that genre fiction is somehow lesser than literary fiction -- indeed, that's one reason I chose to write mysteries -- it seemed less daunting.

Genre fiction (and that would include, mystery, romance, science fiction, horror, fantasy, romance, western and all their sub-categories) briefly, is written and read mainly for entertainment. Literary fiction, on the other hand, has loftier goals -- education and inspiration.

Genre fiction is plot driven -- and the plot can tend to the predictable -- whereas literary fiction is character driven. And, in general, the writing is of a higher standard -- more "literary," in fact.

I loved being on a panel with these folks --and I really didn't feel a need to apologize for what I write. In the end, we're all story tellers, all telling our stories the best we can.



Here's an excellent article on genre fiction vs. literary fiction

Carolina Mountains Literary Festival . . . and a Surprise

I'm back -- and what a weekend!!!

I couldn't make it to Burnsville in time for the opening of the three hour session on the Cherokee Removal -- aka the Long Walk or the Trail of Tears -- but managed to slide in for the last hour. Such a sad story but one that, like that of the Holocaust, should never be forgotten.

There was time for a quick lunch with Sallie Bissell and Rose Senehi, the other two members of the panel I moderated yesterday, and then on to attend an incredible session with the multi-talented John Grant Jr, who played the Native American wooden flute and told Cherokee folk tales.

John was followed by Myrtle Driver ( this picture doesn't do her justice) a native Cherokee speaker who has translated Charles Frazer's Thirteen Moons into Cherokee. Barbara Duncan, Education Director for the Museum of the Cherokee Indian (in Cherokee, NC and well worth a visit!) read a scene in English and then Myrtle gave a very dramatic reading in Cherokee -- a lovely sound that I guess reminds me (in my limited experience with different languages) a bit of Japanese but somehow more musical.

When the reading was over, I approached these folks to tell them how very much I'd enjoyed the whole session and was thrilled when Barbara Duncan said she loved my books.

"You do?" I stammered. "Have you read Old Wounds? Did I get the Cherokee stuff right?"

When she said that I had, I felt like I'd just won a prize -- I did research, of course, but I didn't have anyone to check on my assumptions. So I have, ever since the books came out, hoped that I hadn't made some really dumb mistake or, even worse, said something offensive.

Whew! A load lifted!

That was Friday. On Saturday morning I led a three hour workshop of writing fools -- they wrote and wrote and wrote! It's amazing what interesting and accomplished stuff came out of a very quick workshop. They were given pictures (torn from magazines) of people and places and asked to construct a dialogue between two people in their pictures in a setting based on the picture they'd chosen. They all rose to the challenge, constructing little vignettes that left us all saying "And then what happened?" A great class!

That afternoon I did a solo presentation with a slide show -- you all have seen all the pictures -- going on behind me while I read selections from all four Elizabeth books. And then the panel, where all three of us talked about using the mystery to address social and environmental issues.

The festival ended with a banquet where I sat with another mystery writer, the charming Suzanne Adair. Fred Chappell, former NC poet laureate, spoke and read a poem created for the occasion -- actually, a poem within a poem. Another wow! moment.

I was up early this morning, on the road before 7 AM and arrived home in time for breakfast with John. Unpacking, laundry, email, bills to be paid, lunch (incredible leftover pizza by our own Papa John), and I was just settling down to post on this blog when the phone rang.

"Hi, Vicki? It's Tony Earley. We're in Mars Hill , on our way to Tennessee, and thought we'd come by."

I posted a while back about my admiration of Tony so all I'll say is I can't think of a better close to a literary weekend than to sit and rock on the front porch with the Earleys and their beautiful little girl.