I don't know what I was expecting on my way to the 30th Annual Literature Festival held on the Athens Campus. There was some apprehension built up when I thought about meeting some giants in the field of literature, as well as much excitement. Riding with a colleague, Jessica, we conversed about ideas both small and grand on our way to that campus on a hill. Upon arriving, Dr. Haugen and Olivia made room for Jess and myself as we rode for a quick dinner before the first speakers took their places behind that seasoned lectern. As with most meals the conversation was far more satisfying than the actual food. We all arrived in the auditorium shortly before the first speaker took her place after a brief introduction.  
   The first event was a reading by Dorothy Allison. I listened eagerly as she began to speak. To hear Dorothy speak is like listening to hymn of sharp reality. With out apology she cuts swiftly through flowery language and etiquette and delivers words drawn from a life full of accomplishment and experience. She shared a chapter from a current book she is working on, introducing us all to a "wicked woman" who is dealing with a world of problems. Dorothy explained that when writing, each chapter should be a short story. Your chapters should be a story within themselves. What I remember the most about this first appearance is Dorothy telling the writers to grab a hold of that rage inside. She called us all her baby writers and told us we owed her a story, and I will do my best to honor her command.
   After a brief break between speakers, Marie Howe took the stage for the second event. Marie read from some of her newer works and a very successful previous collection of poems called What the Living Do. While Marie left most of her lecture material for her later appearance, she was visibly emotional as she shared about the loss of her brother. This is the dominating theme of the work What the Living Do. What seemed like conversation was actually her reading the poems. She seamlessly transitioned between her set up and executions so that the audience was never quite sure when she was done reading. I was taken by her delivery into that world where her brother lived in her heart. I felt him there when the pain of their childhood crept into the air of that auditorium, willed into existence by her words. I suffered a small portion of her pain as she painted a life slowly leaving the plane of the living with each poem. Marie crafted a window into her world and let us come through it slowly with each poem until we were standing alongside her. What made the experience so real is the way Marie was able to tell a story with each piece she shared.
   The first evening of Lit Fest was a perfect introduction for an amazing set of experiences. Each writer was given a chance to hear the authors express their works as no one else can. Through their voices we were shown how words can be given life. The next two days would only serve to add to the amazing performances given that fist evening.