I’ll be honest here (am I ever not!) Had I been more observant I would have discovered days ago the wonderful culinary hang out which is Why Not! has free internet. Anyway – all if not lost, I know they have it now.
Had I know I had the ability to get on line, on my computer and connect with everyone perhaps the last two nights would have not been so horribly lonely.
There is something about coming to a festival that makes me feel like I am a walking example of being lonely in a crowd of people. I had it last year and was hoping this year my business plans with Paul would allow him to fly here this year. But the business trajectory didn’t quite have the life I’d dreamed of as I sat in this exact same seat a year ago.
It made me realise how much I rely on my online connection to nourish and sustain me both as a writer and as a person on an everyday basis. And how being without the internet can feel in some way, like having had a communications lobotomy. If only though I could forget I have a deep yearning.
I was a groupie as a young woman. I loved to hang around musicians because I loved music … and I so desperately wanted to belong. And there are simliar lines in attending a writers festival. I long to be part of the crowd. And it doesn’t even have to be the ‘in crowd’ of popular or famous authors – though I would be lying if I said that wouldn’t be lovely – the change to shoot off any number of questions in a private setting. I wish I was belonged. Wish someone would take pity on me and sweep me off into the social malstrom with them.
Alas .. here I am … sitting alone at the bar, waiting for my mojito – looking at a similarily solo man at a table across from me … but I won’t venture over. And hoping there will be no forlorn phone calls to Paul from the beach later on. I think I’m on top of it.
Instead I will relish the brief interludes during the day. The serenpiditous moment of sitting next to the director of the Castlemaine Arts Festival this morning and slipping him my business card. Of sitting next to the lovely Lori this afternoon who shared her delicious dolmades. The fact that Nick Earls not only remembered me (yes I’ll share the story on Monday on Write Anything) but managed to immortalise my moment of “fame” on Thursday when he signed my book (photo pending). Small talismans, where you could possibly get lost in the bigger picture.
Now back to my mojito which has the kick of rocket fuel. And who knows. Perhaps I might invite that solo man over for a chat. He’s got to be a writer. Byron Bay is currently crawling with them.