I was accused of reading Bodega leftovers at Sycamore but once I announced that the first Sycamore was actually what made me want to try my hand at non-fiction, I think I saw Kelley, the host, smile and warm up to the idea.
My non-fiction story got another positive reception and my poet-friend Jaime said with a smirk how we’re very similar and the general consensus was that I’m not the only one that makes up silly nicknames for people in their phones.
As I was walking down the stairs to the Sycamore Cave, as Kelley calls it, I spilled some of my smoked porter and a guy on the stairs behind me said “Nice job”. I made some comment about my clumsiness and he said “No, I meant your story. You thought I was being sarcastic?” How could I not? Sarcasm is my default.
This Sycamore set was smaller, allowing for people to be sensible and have some time to chat after and not get home too late, but why would anyone (any writer) choose sensibility over beer?
There were some great new readers, a few returning and one other from Bodega but as my friend said, and not in a bad way, “It was better than I expected”. Check out an interview with Kelley about Sycamore here.
The adventure continued on from there, but seeing as I’m doing non-fiction now, that could develop into another story, so sit tight. I crashed in Brooklyn which enabled me to go to a reading at Pete’s Candy Store with JoAnn later the next day. I was side-tracked by oysters and booze, so I arrived to the reading late and only got to see one reader.
The space was cozy and felt like the captain’s quarters of a pirate ship. Wooden paneling and bright red fabrics, okay maybe a weird burlesque pirate ship. JoAnn and I agreed the stage was very rockstar which made sense since before we were even out of our seats after the reading, instruments were brought in.
Although it had been two long literary days, which actually felt like one very long and very boozy day, I’m slowly checking these readings off my list and being a list person, that feels great.