Today is the final day of the Emerging Writers’ Festival 2015.
After two major Australian writers festivals and a few thousand dollars later, all I’m left with a pile of books I might never get time to read and a whole heap of already fading memories.
As I sit at my desk in the last of my clean clothes and look down at my half-unpacked bag spewing with notes, dirty washing, receipts and signed books, I can’t help wondering what writing festivals are actually for.
Was it all worth it?
Would I be the person (writer) I am today if I didn’t go? Can writers actually afford to go to festivals? Or are they for fans and readers? The crowd at the Sydney Writers Festival was mostly middle aged women and very old men. Continue reading