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“It’s interesting,don’t you think, how politicians don’t even mention the working class anymore,”said
Elba, a friend and fellow poet. “We don’teven exist. Everything is either about the wealthy or the middle class.”
Her words struck a chord. We were on the phone talking aboutthe upcoming Association of Writers and Writer Programs Conference and we hadveered off on a tangent. Well, kind of.
At the end of last year, Elba and I enthusiastically registeredfor the AWP Conference being held this year in Boston, Massachusetts from March6
th—9
th. Neither of us had ever attended, and we thoughtit important to finally do so.
We took advantage of the AWP pre-registration and one-yearmembership bundle, each of us paying $220.00. It’s a pretty penny for the underemployed, butwe felt it well worth the four days of being inundated with writer’s panels,readings, presentations, book fairs and publishing information.
The bigger hurdle was lodging.
Boston hotels are pricey, even thoseassociated with the conference, offering “discounts.”
Elbasought out an old colleague in the area as a housing option, but that didn’tpan out. In November, I had applied for a writer’s grant and budgeted part ofthe AWP Conference as a cost for professional development. We kept our fingerscrossed. When I didn’t get the grant, we figured it was time to look forthe best deals and suck up the costs. If there’s a will, there’s a way, right?
We found and booked a hotel, but in order to get a cheaperprice, we had to prepay the entire cost of our four-day stay in
Boston. When I got myconfirmation receipt online, all taxes and fees included, I gasped. James Baldwin said it better than I ever could: “Anyone who has struggled with poverty knows how extremely expensive it is to be poor.”
Plus, there were still plane tickets to purchase. The taxifrom the airport to the hotel. The taxi from the hotel to the airport. Icould not help but convert the dollars into living expenses, one of my life-long workingclass habits. Even with all the so-called bargains, my overall trip to
Boston would equal myshare of the rent for one month, two weeks of groceries and gas, and the cost of my pending visit to the dentist.
Boston, you’re killing me! Forget the fancy Boston cream pie I had been fantasizingabout. Since our hotel accommodations didn't even include breakfast (that would have cost extra), I imagined packing my own tea bags and pilfering hot water and snacks to survive.
In Boston, I thought,
I will live off crackers and tea. Poverty sucks.
Despite our friendship that spans decades, I was embarrassedto call Elba and express my growing anxiety over the cost of
Boston. Internalized working-class shame. To make matters worse, my girlfriendhad come home from work one day and casually mentioned the
Bostonweather as something we should look up.
The weather? Oh yeah, that might beimportant, considering we had booked a hotel farther away from the conferencefor a better deal. Our plan was to walk daily to and from the
Haynes Convention Center,where the conference is being held. Save money and exercise at the same time.That’s how the working-class rolls, or in this case, strolls.
Online, weather forecasts of March in
Boston predicted in the 30's and, if lucky,in the 40's. One anonymous
Bostonresident shared that in March one should expect weather that is “chilly,blustery and bleak. Nothing is blooming. Sand and trash are left around fromthe melting snow.” Another said, “Typically wet and cold.” We would be indoorsmostly, of course, but there were the walks to and from the conference tocontend. Both
Elba and I are CalifornianChicanas; we don’t own East Coast winter gear. Neither do our families or friends.Would we have to rummage through our local thrift stores and buy
real winter clothes and shoes? Another potential expense.
Boston was slowly, butsurely, becoming a royal pain in my piggy bank's ass.
Then the phone rang. It was
Elba. "We've got to talk about Boston," she said. "Yes!" I answered immediately. There was a strain in both our voices, a communal sense of urgency; yet for a few seconds, silence hung. I knew what she was going to say before she actually said it. Telepathy? Probably more like shared reality. Finally, she spoke our truth: “Honey, we can’t afford
Boston.”
I exhaled. I was sograteful for her words.
We canceled our hotel immediately. Full refund. Perhaps we should have been sad, but we were, more than anything else,relieved. We would not have to eat peanut butter and jelly for the next month.We would not have to starve in
Boston.We would not have to walk through the sand and trash “left around from themelting snow” in our lightweight cloth tennis shoes, our feet stiff andnumb against the slushy concrete.
Next year the conference will be in
Seattle, much closer. We’ll try again. Meanwhile,we have come up with our own AWP Conference options that are more realistic for us and for any other working classwriters out there who may not be able to attend this year's conference.
Option 1:Designate March 6th-9th as official
Days of the Creative Word. Read, write,visit a new bookstore or library, hold your own intimate, local writing workshops orreadings.
Elba and I will be doing just that. It’s an opportunity to honor the AWP Conference dates we had already reservedand use that time to further foster our poetry and prose. We may not be at the conferencein the flesh, but we will be there in spirit.
Option 2: Applyfor a writer’s grant for a future conference. Yes, the competition is stiff andyou may not get it (like me this past year), but it’s a great exercise inwriting anyway. AWP actually offers two annual scholarship of $500 each toemerging writers who wish to attend a writer’s conference, center, retreat,festival, or residency. Submissions are accepted between December 1 and March30 of each year (there’s still time). For more information, visit https://www.awpwriter.org/contests/wcc_scholarships_overview
Option 3: Goonline and check out the authors who will be presenting at the AWP Conference. https://www.awpwriter.org/awp_conference/featured_presenters
Depending on your budget, pick one or a few of the authorsand go out and get their books of poetry, memoir, essays or prose. Delve intothe pages. Even from afar, you’ll get a whiff and a flavor for this year's highlighted authors at the conference. This is precisely what I did. Considering all the money I won't be spending in Boston, I figure I could treat myself and simultaneously support the literary arts by buying a few books at my local independent bookstore. It isn't theactual conference, I know, and it isn't Boston cream pie in
Boston, but as working class Chicana writers whoexist (despite invisibility aquà y allá), we’ve got to keep wizardingour own caminos.
Tune in to my next blog where I’ll discuss the four AWP Conference authors Iselected from this year's line-up: Adonis, Joy Castro, Eduardo C.Corral, and Tracy K. Smith. I'm just now exploring their texts, but they are already dazzling me with their words. For now, I leave youwith a fitting verse from one of them:
Is this really the world?
Shall I grieve? Shall I hope?
I prefer to sing.
–Adonis
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