by January O’Neil

Last month marked my fourth year attending the Association of Writers & Writing Programs (AWP) Conference, this year in New York City. And because it was in the Big Apple, it certainly was … well … ginormous! With a reported 7,500 people registered, I couldn’t help but think about the poets and writers who have never attended one of these conferences. Can an event like this really make a difference in a writer’s career? Or is there something inherently wrong about attending a glorified poetry convention?

Well, the easy answer is yes and no. First, a little history.

Founded in 1967, the AWP is an organization that supports the craft of writing. Its annual conference, held in various locations across the U.S., brings together a network of creative writing programs, educators, students, publishers, writers and editors — 60 percent of whom, I think, are geared toward poetry. You don’t have to be an AWP member to attend, but members do receive a reduced conference registration rate.

For four days (the first was a registration/setup day), conference attendees were treated to a plethora of panel discussions, forums, town hall meetings and poetry readings, as well as social gatherings, nightly dances  and receptions hosted by colleges and literary organizations. That doesn’t include the off-site poetry readings and parties — all against the backdrop of one of the largest cities in the world.

Multiple sessions are scheduled simultaneously, so there’s no lack of interesting topics from which to choose. Some session topics included “Do You Have to be Mean to be Funny?,” “Off the Page: Writers Talk About the American Landscape,” “Poetry and the Environment,” “Getting the Job and Keeping It: The Creative Writing Tenure Track,” and “Don’t Call It a Comeback: Re-birthing the Black Male Poet.” Additionally, there were wonderful opportunities to hear established poets and writers, such as “Poetry Reading: Yusef Komunyakaa and Sharon Olds,” “A Reading by Robert Pinsky and Natasha Trethewey,” and “A Reading & Conversation with Martin Amis.”

AWP conferences are a schmoozefest. I have no doubt that some writers bring manuscripts to land a publishing deal, or kiss up to literary luminaries in hopes of furthering their careers. But much of my time outside of attending sessions was spent reconnecting with writers I’ve known through the years. I also took advantage of opportunities to connect with editors and roam the bookfair aisles in search of new journals to submit my work.

Speaking of the bookfair, the word “massive” doesn’t begin to point out the dramatic increase of old and new book publishers. And, the prominence of online creative ventures and community projects was surprising. I mean, the bookfair took up three floors of our hotel! My arms ached from carrying around journals and marketing materials. It was overwhelming to say the least. Certainly, there were more independent presses and college-run journals that ever before. But if there was ever any doubt about the popularity of poetry, all you had to do scan the seemingly endless aisles of printed materials. Books will never go out of print.

So is this the conference for you? Well, if you’re an MFA student, an educator or consider yourself an emerging poet from inside or outside of the academic world, then it might be time to see what an AWP Conference is all about. And if you want to see the literary landscape on a national level, it might be time to book those reservations for 2009 in Chicago. But, if your goal is to hunt down an editor to publish your 108-page sonnet series on apple picking, stay at home.

This conference is not so much about enveloping yourself in the craft of poetry. But it is a chance to discover an emerging poet or writer to read, learn how to market your first book or share resources with other writers for community readings. You might even get a chance to hear your favorite writer expound on the writer’s life, because I still believe those true moments exist at the conference — when a poetry enthusiast gets to tell a poet she has loved for years about the poem that saved her life. Or a conference participant offers a contrarian opinion during a question and answer session, which makes the know-it-all panelists reconsider their positions and makes the audience applaud. Yes, those pure moments still happen at AWP.

If you’re like me, you’ll take everything home, rifle through your heavy suitcase of books and promotional postcards, and make a to-do list. Top of the list: write a poem. That’s where the real business of poetry begins.