I’m writing from the Mississippi Book Festival.
It has taken me three years, three trips, to learn how to maximize my time in Jackson. I’ve learned a few other lessons along the way too.
On my rookie voyage, I flew. Jackson is a five-hour drive from Russellville. That first year’s flight had a connection in Atlanta and wound up taking much longer than five hours. Lesson learned. Six hours or less, and it’s always better to drive.
My second year at the festival, I drove. I took my guitar along too. My good buddy and fellow author Brendan Slocumb hauled his violin down from D.C. We did a set together at the festival opening ceremonies. The lesson from that trip was that nobody comes to a book festival to hear an author sing. They come to hear an author read and talk about his books. Fun was had, but again, lesson learned.
This year, I drove and didn’t take my guitar. I also decided to stay one night instead of two. The 24-hour trip ended up being my best ever.
I pulled into Jackson Friday around 4 in the afternoon. Just enough time to get checked into the hotel and head over to the authors’ welcome party. There were no musical guests at the Mississippi Museum of Arts. There were, however, good food, free drinks and a crowd of people who had one thing in common — a love of books.
As the night wound down, I found myself at a table with Steve Yarbrough and Ron Rash. If you’re not familiar with these two authors, they’re giants in the world of Southern fiction. Steve is originally from Mississippi but received his Master of Fine Arts degree from the University of Arkansas. Ron is a North Carolina writer, through and through.
Outside of our ties to the South, we also share a background in athletics. Steve played football for Delta State, and Ron went to Brevard College on a track scholarship. I haven’t met many athletes-turned-authors in the literary world, but chatting with those two dudes taught me another lesson — writing takes work.
The next morning, I had my work cut out for me.
No, I wasn’t back on the football field or running the 800-meter like Ron did in college. But I did have a panel and an hour-long session at the book-signing booth. Luckily, I was in good company.
Juliet Grames, Henry Wise, Shaun Hamill, Jimmy Cajoleas and Gabino Iglesias (Gabino will also be at the Six Bridges Book Festival this week) were my companions throughout the day.
It’s late afternoon now and the festival is still going. There’s a party at a local watering hole tonight, but here I am, huddled in the hotel lobby, putting the finishing touches on this column. As soon as I type the last word, I’ll start the five-hour drive home. In other words, I’m putting the lessons I’ve learned over the last three years to good use.
PS: Today — Sept. 22 — is Christy Cranor’s birthday. If you happen to see her or know her, please send my mom big love. She’s the best.
Eli Cranor is the nationally bestselling, Edgar Award-winning author of “Don’t Know Tough,” “Ozark Dogs” and “Broiler.” He can be reached using the “Contact” page at elicranor.com.
This post was originally published on here
