You should come to the Night of Writing Dangerously.
There are a lot of things I really love about my job here at the Office of Letters and Light, but probably my favourite is everything to do with the Night of Writing Dangerously. This year will be my third as the Write-a-thon Cruise Director, and my fourth attending the event.
The trouble with our annual fundraising gala is it is very hard to describe in words or even pictures. While those who have attended can speak to the experience (and I hope they will here in the comments), the atmosphere of the event is hard to distill into a snappy blog post.
Still, nobody ever said I didn’t like a challenge, so I’ll give it a whirl. Why? Because I want every single one of you out there reading this blog post to stop for a moment and think, really think, about whether you could raise $250 for the Office of Letters and Light and get yourself to San Francisco on November 20.I know what you’re going to say. You live far away. You’re broke. You have school/work/kids/a very needy hamster. I’m not asking you to drop everything and come to the Julia Morgan Ballroom that night. I’m just asking you to consider it.
Because when you arrive at the ballroom on the 15th floor of the Merchants’ Exchange Building, you’ll be greeted by waiters offering Cosmonoveltons and Noveltinis. You’ll mingle with your fellow attendees, admiring everyone’s noir-themed outfits while basking in the warmth of supporting your favourite non-profit and the large, beautiful fireplace. You’ll check your coat with our friendly volunteers.
And then the doors will open, you’ll walk past the mahogany bar, and you’ll find yourself in a giant luxury ballroom full of tables and chairs, with a 27-foot fireplace at the other end, surrounded by windows overlooking the lights of San Francisco. You’ll settle in at a table with the friends you made on the Write-a-thon forum or during cocktail hour, and you’ll dive into your tote bag full of goodies, including the Write-a-thon poster you see at the top of this blog post.
You’ll plug your laptop into the power bar and log on to the wireless that Dan and Jezra set up. You’ll post on Facebook, “I’m at the Night of Writing Dangerously RIGHT NOW!!!” and all your friends will like your post and beg for photos. You’ll tweet with the #nowd hashtag, and you’ll find everyone else doing the same, and you’ll all squeal together virtually, then realise you can squeal together in person and agree to meet at the candy buffet.
And then you’ll discover the candy buffet and temporarily forget about your new Twitter friends. You’ll marvel at the array of candy and then launch yourself into what promises to be an evening-long sugar high, propelled by not only the sumptuous display at the candy buffet, but the craziest selection of donuts you’ve ever seen in your life, followed a few hours later by cookies homemade by Tavia, OLL’s Operations Manager.
You’ll take your fists full of candy over to the door prize table, where you’ll pace back and forth with your new Twitter friends, debating which prizes to enter your name for. You’ll chat with the OLL staff manning the table, and you’ll get to put a face to the names on the staff page. You’ll finally make your choice and carefully fill out your name on the tickets and enter them into the boxes in front of your picks.
When you head back to your table, name entered for door prizes and pockets full of candy, you’ll find the waiters there, offering you another beverage from the open bar. You’ll talk to the rest of the OLL staff as they make their way through the crowds, and you’ll thank Chris Baty in person for the craziest 13 years of literary abandon anyone could ask for. He’ll hang out at your table for a while, and when he walks away you’ll all comment on how tall he is and that he looks nice in his hat. (The man can really wear a hat.)
And then you will finally remember to turn on your laptop, and you’ll dive into your novel and experience the magical feeling of writing your novel in a room with 250 other people doing exactly the same thing. Maybe you’ll win a word sprint, and you’ll be rewarded with prizes and the delight of the flowerpot hat. You’ll write like fury, propelled by the collective energy of 250 writers who have had way too much candy, and you’ll stop only to devour a delicious array of easy-to-eat-while-writing dinner choices.
Perhaps your table will win the first word-count challenge, and you’ll toast your victory with your newest friends. You may even reach 50,000 words, and you will experience the glory of sprinting to the front of the ballroom to ring the victory bell. You’ll receive your winner’s crown, and you will wear it proudly as you make your way back to the table clutching your prizes.
After six hours of sugar-fueled mayhem, you’ll make your way to the elevators with your new friends, laughing and arguing about what the most awesome part of the night was. And you’ll split up when you get to the street, getting into cars or catching cabs or walking to BART with a dozen other writers so you can prolong the feeling a little longer. You’ll get home, and you’ll tweet sad things with the #nowd hashtag about how you can’t believe it’s already over.
And you’ll start making plans to come back next year.
If you want to attend the 2011 Night of Writing Dangerously, you can find all the details on our Write-a-thon page.
All I’m asking is that you think about it.
– Sarah
Recent comments