While the interior of the Doubletree near Sea-Tac airport evokes tones of brown-hued melancholy, I am rather fond of this hotel, particularly the wings of labyrinthine sections surrounded by trees and lifted from the ground so as to imitate a sort of boardwalk floating above the forest floor, river rock simulating the river. The effect (if you press your forehead to the glass walls) is of being immersed in nature, harkening to a time before the streets and runways took over.
I was there for the Pacific Northwest Writer’s Association (PNWA) Conference, a gathering that this year celebrated its 70th year bringing together writers from near and far. This was my second year attending, and I made a vow to come every year if only for the way it makes me feel.
The word that encompasses my state of being there is cozy, defined by Merriam-Webster as:
1 a: enjoying or affording warmth and ease
b: marked by or providing contentment or comfort
2 a: marked by the intimacy of the family or a close group
b: marked by or suggesting close association
There are few places in which I feel totally at ease, entirely myself, without pressure to modulate in order to blend in. Because most of what I read and research is related to biodiversity loss and how to mitigate the losses, this is what’s always on my mind and in my heart. I can’t help it. I just want to talk about saving pollinators and birds, turtles and rhinos, trees and coral. But doing so can bring up some sad truths, and I don’t want to be a party pooper!
When I can’t talk about saving nature, the next best thing for me is talking about writing.
So to sit with, walk with, talk with others who love writing the same way I do, who are also learning and struggling, who are also dying to talk about it, feels exhilarating and cozy all at once. Flying with my flock. Any writer could approach any other writer, regardless of their genre or level of success, and gush unabashedly about the craft.
Until this conference I didn’t personally know any writers who wrote environmental themes. This has been a source of loneliness for me. Alone in my desire to talk about biodiversity loss, climate change, pollution, plastics, nature disappearing, but also alone in not having another eco-fiction writer with whom to discuss how the heck we can write about these things to inspire, not turn away.
But I met someone like me! Yay!
I also had the opportunity, like every writer there, to voice what I write about. Although environmental writing only came up when talking with my new friend, everyone I spoke with appreciated that *someone* was writing about saving nature. People do care. And everyone loves nature. And this gives me courage to keep trying.
So next year I don’t know if I’ll have a revision of my novel to share, but I’ll be at the conference anyway, flying high with my flock.
Annegsherwood.com 