Emerging Voices

On Sunday, July Seventh, I attended a seminar (of sorts) held by author-panelists associated with the PEN center USA organization. The panelists were all successful writers sharing a bit about themselves, but mostly they sought to elaborate on a PEN Fellowship offered but once a year. Emerging Voices is the name of that fellowship, given only to talented writers who need help breaking into the business. The meeting was held here at Skylight Books in Los Feliz.

There were many presenters, most of them unfamiliar to me, authors of all genres from poetry to creative nonfiction to children's books. To name a few: Jillian Lauren (Some Girls), Sacha A. Howells (Juggernott, a work in process), Cecil Castellucci (the adventures of Cecil Seaskull), Maria Amparo Escandon (Gonzalez & Daughter Trucking Co.), Diana Wagman (Spontaneous). Libby Flores (contributor to The Rattling Wall) is the current Program Director of Emerging Voices, and she served as moderator for the event.

I arrived early to get a sense of the people and the space. In quiet moments I heard the muzak of Skylight Books, The Smiths. After finding a good seat, I instantly saw how insular this literary group behaved. There were plenty of guests filtering into the place, but only the people in the very front of the room - the famous and the semi-famous - were shaking hands, commiserating. The rest of us listened to Morrissey's soft voice. Eventually, the Program Director walked up to the podium in salutation.

The initial presentation was succinct and clear: if you want to know what it takes to become an Emerging Voice, just listen closely to the success stories of our former fellows. I could tell everyone here wanted to apply (me included), and there was a nervous silence whenever any of the presenters spoke. I looked down at the literature provided. I could see myself mentored by a Mark Salzman or a Ben Loory, as I'm sure many of the other angsty males in the room could. I recognized one of my UCLA professors, Harryette Mullen, as well. (Perhaps it's a stretch to think she would mentor me.)

I was rapt by the presentation, practically paralyzed. The lucky awardees of the fellowship would benefit from an ongoing mentorship with an author, as well as master classes, voice instruction for public readings, and other free courses through UCLA extension. It also came with a $1000 stipend. Perhaps most impressive, fellows would attend evenings with other prominent authors - sometimes in the author's very own homes! It sounded like a dream.

What were the criteria, you may ask? Two things, really. The first: in order for a fellowship applicant to be considered, s/he must be an exceptional writer (obviously). Perhaps it is a good time to mention that the girl to guy ratio of the room was about eight to one, draw your own conclusion. The second criteria was more vague than you might think. An applicant must prove a "lack of access" to the tools necessary to join the ranks of the literary elite.

This lack of access was a bit puzzling. Sure, I could imagine that some of the current fellows had a genuine need for the Emerging Voices Fellowship. But not all of them. There were older, more stable applicants with careers. Some seemed to be pretty established and in good shape, if you will. And some of them were already published before they applied. Lack of access seemed to be a pretty loose term.

~

Following the presentation, several audience members participated in the Q & A session. Their questions were all very similar. Everyone wanted to know the secrets of these gatekeepers of the fellowship; everyone wanted to know how to get a leg-up on the competition. Questions like: "Are there writers of particular genres that are more commonly selected than others?" or "Is the lack of access more important, or the ability to write well?" Every questioner sounded like they were asking their professors for hints on the test at the end of the quarter. 

I asked a question, but just a simple one. I wanted to know where one might attend the upcoming public readings. I figured they weren't going to give out any tips to applicants; I wanted to know where I could see these authors again, if only to get to know them better at a later date.

After the talks, the audience disintegrated and the schmoozing ensued. Everyone aggregated around the author closest to their genre, talking in high-pitched tones (if only to be aurally memorable, should they meet again). I did it too - how could I not? One of the fellows from this year was Tommy Moore: his genre was definitely a match for my style of writing. We spoke for a bit over a beer.

I stayed long enough to stay present in the minds of the writers, but I left before it got uncomfortable. As I departed, I couldn't help but think again about the "lack of access." Do I lack access? I believe I do, but I'm sure there are others that lack access more than myself. I believe I am a capable writer and I most certainly will apply, if only to challenge myself to get in.

On my way out the door of Skylight Books, I saw two famous authors: David Francis (Stray Dog Winter) and the abovementioned Diana Wagman (The Care and Feeding of Exotic Pets). I snapped a picture.

I belong with these folks, I thought. Fellow or no, I could just feel that this was my cadre, my tribe.

But then, as I walked further away from Skylight Books, I could not help but think of how I am different, how I do lack access. There I was, walking to the bus stop. I figure everyone in that bookstore must have driven in a car to get there. Perhaps someone at the event lived in Los Feliz, walking from their apartment down the street. I, on the other hand, had to ride a bus for three hours in total. 

In that, I was alone.

 

But then again, when I got to the bus stop, I remembered that I was not alone.

Draw your own conclusions.