Want A Poster?

Recently we've had some requests for posters from past festivals for decorating classrooms, posterity, dreaming about future literary success, etc. We do have several posters from past festivals and would be more than willing to share them with you (for FREE) to display in your home, office, classroom, to set on fire in a piece of performance art, or to wear about town as a sandwich board. Just email us at getlit@ewu.edu and we'll arrange a time you can pop your head in our office and walk away with a piece of Get Lit! history. Our only request in return is that you share with your family, friends, or anyone else what the Get Lit! Festival is and what it means to our community.

Check our some former designs below!

2004

2009

2006

2005

Hatching Stories by guest blogger Randall Platt

Here is another entry from a 2010 festival author. In April, Randall Platt will share her latest during our Family Focus on Saturday, April 17. She first will read with our headlining YA author, Victor Lodato, and later will talk about writing novels for young adults with other local YA authors.

Platt grew up in the Pacific Northwest and she says, "I had the best childhood in the world growing up in Lake Oswego - well, I wasn’t IN the lake ALL the time, but a major portion of it." Most of her books are set in WA or OR, like The Likes of Me, which was chosen as a Best Book by the American Library Association. Platt writes for "adults, young adults, and for people who don’t own up to being either." Check out her latest Hellie Jondoe, about a tough street orphan who, in 1918, heads west towards Oregon. Hellie is a girl who can pick your pocket, lift your watch, and just possibly steal your heart. The Kirkus Review said this book is "...a solid historical fiction with a scrappy heroine who is genuinely touch and a true surviror. Irrepressible and irreverent."

Check on our website for more information as we are adding details all the time. Meanwhile, here are some thoughts on writing by Randall:

The Chick That Wouldn’t Hatch

Okay, maybe that’s not one of Aesop’s fables, but it’s the one I hereby offer:

It seems there’s this chicken egg and, in spite of the mother hen’s love, care, devotion and constant worry, it just isn’t hatching. All its nest-mates popped out right on schedule and yet this one egg is crack-less. The mother hen is frantic! She goes to all the other barnyard animals with her problem:

“All the eggs
In my last batch,
Came to life
And now they scratch.

But there’s one absent
In this patch.
One stubborn egg,
That will not hatch!”

To which the horse replies,

“What’s one chick
more or less?
Too many chicks
just makes a mess!”

The cow replies,

“On this farm,
chicks come and go.
One less baby
for you to know!”

The sheep replies,

“Just because
it’s in your nest,
shouldn’t mean
you love it best!”

And the duck replies,
“Sorry, dear,
that I am chuckling.
It’s probably just
an ugly duckling!”

The egg, of course, is a metaphor for the novel that has been gestating in my head for years. The one I always come back to. The one I have written over and over again. From countless points of view: a comic novel for adults with a male protagonist, then with a female protagonist; then as a screenplay with a male lead, then as a screenplay with a female lead; then as a coming of age novel for young adults. The story, the setting, the theme is always the same. Yet the characters who are locked safely inside their warm, protective shell will just not hatch.

What’s a mother hen to do? Hurl that egg across the barnyard and cackle cruelly as it breaks and oozes down the fence? Sneak it under the nest of the next hen over and let it become her problem? Get back on the nest herself and let the egg just fossilize? Or …. perhaps, she will do the brave thing:

So the hen took the egg,
and a wee, sharp knife.
and cut out the chick,
to give it a life.

So, this mother hen - I mean writer - will also do the brave thing and surgically bring that story to life. Open that egg and see what works and what doesn’t, breathe those characters to life and most of all, find out what it is - truly is - that haunts her about this story.

How?

I take a long, careful listen to the voice that seems to be calling me to this story .. the character(s) that keeps poking me awake at night. Assuming I have already written a few chapters or opening scenes, I try to imagine myself in the shoes of my character and do a 360 degree view through that person’s eyes. I see the past, the present and the envisioned future. Then, I do the same thing with the other lead characters and rewrite that first chapter(s) from the points of view of ALL these central characters. … sometimes in several different tenses. Busy work? Maybe. But it is amazing to me how many times I have discovered whose story it really is and, better yet, which character is the best one to tell that story and from what point of view. Yes, I have even written the opening scenes of a screenplay in novel form and visa versa. And it’s not because I don’t have anything better to do. Each form FORCES me to surgically look at the plot and the characters in entirely different ways. I have opened the egg and instead of frying, scrambling, or poaching it, I have found a live little chick ready to take on a life of its own. All I have to do is keep the foxes out of the henhouse, but that is an entirely different article.

Maybe I was a surgeon in a past life. I’ll probably be a hen in the next.

End 2009 with the 100 Best Last Lines in Literature

The American Book Review specializes in reviews of frequently neglected published works of fiction, poetry, and literary and cultural criticism from small, regional, university, ethnic, avant-garde, and women's presses. ABR is a literary journal that aims to project the sense of engagement that writers themselves feel about what is being published. It is edited and produced by writers for writers and the general public.
While the last line on this sign brings up all sorts of potential storylines, we recently ran across the ABR's collection of the best last lines in literature. Some may bring back memories and others my entice you to read a book you've been meaning to get to. Here are some of their selections:

"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known." - Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

"This is the difference between this and that." - Gertrude Stein, A Novel of Thank You

"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

"They hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow,Through Eden took their solitary way." - John Milton, Paradise Lost

"So much of life in its meshes! She called in her soul to come and see." –Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God

"Yes," I said. "Isn't it pretty to think so?" - Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises

“There was the hum of bees, and the musky odor of pinks filled the air.” –Kate Chopin, The Awakening

“Who knows but that, on the lower frequencies, I speak for you?” –Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

Let's end 2009 with a good line. Read the complete list of 100 here or let us your favorite last line from literature! Or hey...if you are feeling creative, tell us the story behind the above sign.

Writing Nonfiction Without an "I" by guest blogger Ana Maria Spagna

Each year we ask festival authors to participate on our blog. Ana Maria Spagna is the first of many for 2010! In April, you will hear her read from her latest nonfiction book about a personal exploration of the civil rights movement and can also participate in a writing workshop about the power of telling two stories at once. Check on our website for more information as we are adding details all the time.

Washington author, Ana Maria Spagna, shares her journey to discover her father’s role in the bus boycott in Tallahassee, which, she said, changed her life. "Meeting John Lewis, and so many other 'foot soldiers' of the movement, at the 50th anniversary of the Tallahassee bus boycott was one of the proudest, and most humbling, moments of my life," said Ana Maria. "John Lewis is the quiet hero of the Civil Rights Movement, former Freedom Rider, and last surviving speaker from the March on Washington in 1963. He remains one of the most powerful voices for civil rights, gay rights, human rights in the nation."

When I started work on my new book, Test Ride on the Sunnyland Bus, there was one word I wanted to avoid at all costs: “I.” For years, I’d been writing personal essays—some heavy on the personal—my first book had just come out, and I was feeling exposed and exhausted, weary of self-indulgence.

By happenstance I’d stumbled upon evidence of my late father’s involvement in the early civil rights movement in Florida, and I thought: “This is it! Not my story, but his story!” Research was a relief; it was exhilarating. Slowly, over months and years, books, microfilm, bold cold emails, motel telephone interviews, distant rural church services and poorly-attended peace marches all led me closer to the buried truth about six courageous young men on an empty city bus.

Then it was time to write. Problems arose. For one thing, the two central living witnesses—one black and one white—told radically different versions of the story. Whose was true? Another inevitable problem was I began to feel like an encroacher. Civil rights history belongs to African Americans, I thought. Florida history should belong to Floridians. There was real danger of appropriation, of being a modern day outside agitator.

The answer lay in one word: “I.” The only way, ethically, to make the story mine was to go whole hog. I had to tell the story with all of my pre-conceived notions, all my fears and suspicions, my family guilt and family grief, all front and center. That’s not to say I abandoned the research. Far from it. But over time, I found that melding memoir with history offered unexpected benefits. Like the early New Journalism of Joan Didion or Tom Wolfe or even Hunter S. Thompson, my own perspective offered a unique slant, a lens through which to watch events unfold. [Little know fact: when Ana Maria drinks gin, she's convinced that she is Joan Didion, whose essays she admires more than anyone else's.] And as in the best novels, telling two stories at once—what happened back then and what I discover now—increased the tension and gave the book its shape. In the end, including more of me makes Test Ride on the Sunnyland Bus more authentic and more poignant. Because, well, it includes more of the truth.

Lately I’ve been thinking again about finding a me-less story to write. But I’ve also been wondering this: is there really any such thing?

We'd love to hear your thoughts on this...me-less or no me-less, that is the question. Comment below or be the first to start a discussion on our message board!