Writer's Con One Short This Year

The Roanoke Regional Writers Conference last year wasn't a bad scene. For starters, Sharyn McCrumb was there along with some excellent writers around Virginia whose work appears in notable mags nationwide.

There was even a full-time blogger there sharing tips on the blogosphere.

I had been hoping for an encore this year, but received no emails regarding the 2009 conference.
While Roanoke is very cosmopolitan for its size - an assertion I've long stood by - writer's conferences are pretty rare, so I knew that I wanted to attend.

I called the place that housed it last year: The Jefferson Center. They said they have no idea if it's going on in '09, but they aren't hosting it.

I wrote the webmaster of the Literary Ladies' Luncheon - who made reference to the 2008 conference on their site, but still no dice on tracking down the event for '09. All of this after Googling the hell out of anything that sounded remotely close to Roanoke Regional Writers Conference.

So how do I finally here about it: via a thank you for attending email from the Arts Council of the Blue Ridge, saying how last weekend's conference was a fine affair. My email address must not have been on the head's up mailing list.

Being angry is completely futile, but feeling utterly disappointed is pretty called for. I mean, how can Roanokers have any claim to how little buy-in the arts have in our city when someone like me - seeking an opportunity to pay good money toward this conference and its speakers - can't even track down the date or place or host of an event?

I'll not claim that I am so fine a writer that the conference was in any way cheapened by my absence, but I'll tell you what was: the conference's and host's coffers. Not to mention the score of small-press books I always buy from the speakers.

Maybe next year I won't have to beat down someone's door just to patronize the arts.

Busing: Day Six

Okay, so something odd has happened with my little bus experiment. No, I wasn't mugged or molested, nor did I meet my new best friend or come to the conclusion that the mumbling guy who stares out the window is actually chanting the winning lottery numbers for a month from now.

Nothing that exciting. Mostly, I've noticed that I have gravitated away from the bus in direct proportion to how well my wife and I have adjusted to being a single car family. This wasn't my intention, evidenced quite clearly by the completely unused week-long bus ticket I still have in my wallet as an unwillingness to admit that I pissed away $14.

We just made slight adjustments here and there, as we often to, and the change to using only one car was tacit and unconscious, but is almost complete, nonetheless.

I still took the bus to work this morning, and I might take it home as well. And this itself might become a routine, at least while the Jeep is in the shop. But it's clear to me now just how completely personal and private transportation has ingrained itself in our lives.

Many rightly argue that - even if you wanted to be a fan of mass trans in a smaller city - you could only go so far because everything from the layout of certain businesses to city zoning are predicated largely on an assumed level of personal transportation.

Of course, now I'm scratching my head as to whether we could survive with just one car. Hmmmm. Though both cars are paid for, the lack of insurance alone could pay for my bus tickets. Hmmmm.

Carmike 10 ahead of the game

In times of economic downturns such as these, there are a few industries that will inevitably suffer: travel, leisure, and film. While the MPAA whines about piracy being the bane of sluggish theater profits (they said the same thing about VHS and DVD as well), they seem to have ignored the abundantly clear fact that spending $30 per couple to glean 90 minutes of entertainment isn't the best investment (though - apparently - neither are my mutual funds as of late).

And yet, thanks largely to Movie Tirades, I've found myself wanting to see more and more movies, either on DVD or, especially, at the theater.

The theater is the one place where I'm a total sellout when it comes to buying concession: I want a drink and snacks. It's a part of the experience for me. If I can't afford them, then I simply go to the theater less rather than go without.

However, while other theaters are scratching their heads wondering what the heck to do about falling attendance, Carmike 10 has stepped up to the plate and taken some action in a few key ways:

1. Student discount. This theater didn't use to have one, which put a bad taste in my mouth because their typical tickets are pricier than some other theaters (currently an adult, night show costs $9.25). I would cringe when my friend, who - for some reason - was only interested in the Carmike 10, would ask if I'd like to join him. Now, though, they have the discounted student rate of $7.50, which - while I've seen better - is a great step in the right direction.

2. Midday shows. While their noon shows are still the same price as any other matinee, stepping up and being one of the only theaters with such an early show is a big plus. Despite my affinity for catching a good flick, I like to go in when it's light and come out when it's still light, so that I don't feel like I've spent the whole day in a movie.

3. Popcorn bucket. When I bought my Indiana Jones $6 bucket of popcorn, I had to convince my wife that it would end up being a good deal. With 50 cent refills for the next few months after Indiana hit the big screen, surely we'd make up for the difference and get out money's worth.
Then they extended the bucket's use until the end of 2008. Now, the same bucket is good for all of 2009! That's the kind of deal that will keep me coming back to Carmike 10. I've gotten quite a few 50 cent buckets since then, and I've got 11 months and change still left on it.

4. Going digital. I'll admit, there's not a whole lot of difference prima facie in digital and analog for your average film, but now that Carmike 10 has made the digital conversion, they can offer 3D movies (I'm anxious to try my first very soon). For many theaters, this conversion will come at a tremendous cost - a price that has to be handed down to the customer, unfortunately. But with Carmike's other recent incentives, I don't see it dissuading me anytime soon.

So while many theaters bemoan these tough times, Carmike 10 is doing what it takes to get people in the door, and - in my case - it's working.

Ding, dang, dong goes the Star Line Trolley

While heading south from downtown on an errand, I decide to give the new Star Line Trolley a try. I've seen these old-style cars roaming about downtown several times, and had heard somewhere that they're free.

So on Jefferson Street I stand at the adequately marked trolley stop which reads that trolleys come every ten minutes. I wait right at ten minutes, so it seems the assertion is correct at least as far as I can speak to it.

The car itself is pristine, though that's really to be expected based on how new it is. It has a very charming interior, with brass rails, leather handholds, and nice wooden benches (if a little slippery at fast stops). The ceilings are high, with good lighting and an embedded sound system (though there is no music or announcements during our ride).

The day is cold, but the trolley remains adequately heated. Four, small airplane-style monitors show static-laden flashes of some image or other, like I'm suddenly on the set of the film They Live. I don't know if these normally display routes and stop info or play The Sound of Music on loop.

Aside from me and my colleagues, there are two other people aboard: one, a woman who gets off maybe two blocks from where she'd been picked up, and the other a homeless guy seemingly enjoying the heat while taking a nap in back.

It's quite early, so I'd like to think the hour and the weather explain the low ridership.

Carilion Roanoke Memorial marks the end of the line, where my colleagues and I get off as does the homeless guy.

Our return trip is much the same, though the driver has country music playing softly in the background, and the monitors are just empty, sans the flicker of some pirate signal trying to break through. One more rider gets on with us, and another along the way.

I like the idea of the Star Line Trolley. I just hope that it's used in lieu of hopping in a car to drive a few blocks to meet someone for lunch, run and errand, or go to a doctor's appointment. I hope that its character encourages a strong ridership and perhaps brings more people into downtown who might otherwise avoid it due to poor parking.

In the end, I just hope it's a good idea.

Busing: Day Five

On Friday, after taking the bus to work, I decided to purchase a monthly bus pass to commit myself to the higher calling of busing. I walked the two blocks to the Campbell Court station and parted the haze of cigarette smoke from the half-dozen smokers lighting up just outside the south-facing double doors.

I went to the counter, and looked at the rates to make sure I had enough cash. Stepping up to the teller window, however, I found a note reading: Out to lunch. I checked my watch; it was 3pm, making me immediately envious of the bus station worker's lunch break.

I left and came back later, again set on a monthly pass. It was a Friday right before a weekend when I'd have a car, and I knew I already had a ride for that evening, so I asked: "Can I get a monthly pass starting Monday?" and she screwed her face. "They're month to month. You get one for the calendar month, not for a month from when you bought it."

So I decide to go for a week-long pass. "Well can I get a weekly pass for Monday?"

She again looked like I might have a second head I have always been unaware of. "Well the week starts Monday and goes through Saturday. We stopped selling them for this week."

"You're not selling them now?" I asked.

"Nobody would want to buy a week-long pass on a Friday," she said. "But we selling the one for next week."

"That starts on Monday?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay, I'll take one of them," I tell her. She tells me the price: $14.

I pay it, though the math is immediately suspect. If I ride to work to and from home each day, it's $3/day for 5 days, equally $15. If I lock myself into a week-long pass, I save one dollar.

I guess I do get to ride on Saturday, in case I want to be gung-ho and come to work on my day off.