"Something very meaningful and definitely not the Fall Out Boy lyrics I wanted to put here." - Fancy Header
j.r. dawson
  • Home
  • THE FIRST BRIGHT THING
  • About
    • Press Kit
    • Recent News
    • Contact
  • STORIES

Day Forty-Five: Kevin Barry and a Pub

7/11/2015

1 Comment

 
Picture
First off, my workshop went very well yesterday. That's exciting. 

If you happen to be in the Dingle area (that is, in Ireland) on Tuesday, please come by the Dingle Bookstore to hear me read from the project I'm working on. We'll be there at 7:30 and it'd be great to see you in person. 

So that's fun news.

Now for an embarrassing story.

I took my afternoon nap today, and I woke up because a gaggle of people had come into the hall outside my room at the BnB and started talking loudly. I was then reminded that no, it wasn't four in the morning and I couldn't sleep anymore, because there was a lecture from a famous Irish author, Kevin Barry, that was about to take place in the parlor room across the hall. 

I jumped up, my hair in my face and my jeans sagging, and I grabbed my bag and my keys and my phone, and I ran out of the door ... right into a red-headed dude in a striped shirt who was very obviously Kevin Goddamned Barry.

"Hello," he said, and me, still half-asleep, muttered a "hello," trying to get around him and the landlord's daughter who was fangirling him.  But then he put out his hand. "I'm Kevin."

Well, of course you're Kevin. 

"I'm Jen," I muttered. And he said, "Good to meet you," or something, or maybe he didn't, but I definitely did scuttle, and I used that word earlier, but it was indeed a scuttle, I scuttled away from him and into the parlor room.

"Cheers?" he said after me. 

And I wanted to die.

I'd signed up to have dinner with Kevin Barry and sit next to him, and I let someone else have my seat. Ted asked me why, and honestly it was because I needed a place to kick out my leg, but we know me, and if I really wanted that seat, I would have said damn be to the leg and done it anyway. 

I'm not good at talking to famous authors. I'm not good at talking to strangers. And I'm not good at talking to strange famous authors who I run into with my fat hair in my eyes and one shoe in my hand. 

Kevin was an amazing reader, and I absolutely adored his book. I wish I had the courage to tell him that. I know that I will need to get better at talking to impressive people if I'm not going to be trampled over in this world. But it just wasn't happening tonight. 

I went out with my fellow students to a pub, where we listened to Irish music play. The more I delve into Ireland, the more I feel like I'm entering my father's world. I feel close to him out here, a quarter of a world away, and it's stirring up a lot of feelings that I'm sure would make a good poem if I was a poet. I think I'm going to need a couple of years or something to suss out everything this trip means to me, but I do know I won't be forgetting it soon. 

I started scribbling things down while I listened to the music, but I bet none of it is any good.

I'll just put the first line here:

When my father was in Ireland, it never rained. 
1 Comment

    What is this?

    Dawson is a writer. This is her blog. In it, you shall read about reading. And writing. And cheeseburgers. Sometimes there are tangents. Huzzah.

    Categories

    All
    Advice
    Angela Patten
    Animal Farm
    Animorphs
    Applegate
    Applying
    Art
    Bad Writing
    Bats
    Bella
    Best Writing Places
    Blue Line
    Bradbury
    Caffeine Dreams
    Chicago
    Colorado
    Community
    Complicated Characters
    Concert
    Dad
    Day Job
    Dead Poets Society
    Death
    Depression
    Draft
    Dundee
    Elements Of Fiction
    Exposition
    Famous
    Father's Day
    Favorite Books
    Fox Hollow
    Frankenstein
    Frozen
    Gaiman
    Game Of Thrones
    Grant
    Grateful
    Harry Potter
    Hermione
    Heroines
    Home
    Hunger Games
    Introduction
    Iowa
    Ireland
    Katniss
    Kevin Barry
    Killing Characters
    Life Of Pi
    Lindsey Stirling
    Mardra Sikora
    Marketing
    Martin McDonagh
    Memoir
    MFA
    Motivation
    Music
    Ocean At The End Of The Lane
    Old Market
    Omaha
    Opera
    Panera
    Paradise Bakery
    Pen Names
    Personal Life
    Pikes Peak Writers Conference
    PitchWars
    Procrastination
    Radical Face
    Reading
    Residency
    Revision
    Robin Williams
    Scooter's
    Self-love
    Set Piece
    Setting
    Shelf Life
    Short Story
    Sick
    Starbucks
    Stonecoast
    The Lion King
    The MFA Years
    Thesis
    Twilight
    UNO Library
    Urban Abbey
    Village Inn
    Wedding
    Women
    Wordsworth
    World
    Writing
    Yann Martel
    #YesAllWomen
    Zen

    Archives

    May 2019
    July 2018
    November 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    July 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    March 2015
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014

    RSS Feed

Proudly powered by Weebly
Photos used under Creative Commons from smoorenburg, Erik Daniel Drost, prasad.om, Feral78, spbpda, Môsieur J. [version 9.1], markus spiske