The bookfair is a sprawling joy-editors from all the magazines and small presses you can imagine are there, hawking their wares and generally willing to offer a kind smile.
Not all panels are created equal but when you find a panel with people who actually prepared and have insightful things to say, there’s a lot to be learned. Many of the writers you admire will be in attendance, and most of them will be warm and approachable and totally willing to say hello. You will get to see them while walking around the convention center, at readings and panels, in dark alleys, and often, they will ply you with drinks and you them. Without a doubt, the best part of AWP is how so many of your writer friends are in the same place. I’ve tried to overcome my reticence about introducing myself to fancy writers to varying degrees of success, and I’ve learned about the best and worst parts of the conference. I have become more realistic about what I can accomplish over a mere three days of literary debauchery. With each year since, however, the conference has become more enjoyable. I was too shy to approach the writers I very much wanted to approach and there was a particularly sad incident at one magazine’s bookfair table, where I tried to purchase the magazine, and the sunglasses-indoor-wearing graduate student slouched behind the table couldn’t be bothered to feign alertness or take my money. I didn’t know anyone and I spent far too much money and it was impossible to attend every event, panel, reading, and party I wanted. I kept getting lost because the book fair was in four rooms. Their eyeglasses, I noted, were particularly sophisticated, as were their shoes, often pointy and heeled. There were so many people, everywhere, and they were impossibly chic, so that made them even more intimidating. The first year I attended AWP, I hated it.
All About the AWP Conference: How to Swim in a Sea of Writers