You Had to Be There
by Deanna Carlyle

First Annual International Women's Fiction Festival
Matera, Italy, September 28 - October 2, 2004
Question: What do the International Herald Tribune, the BBC and the Corriere della Sera have in common?
Answer: They all covered the first annual International Women’s Fiction Festival.
Thanks to the tireless work of a handful of volunteers, what started in early 2004 as an idea for a writing retreat eventually gained enough sponsorship to offer a literary prize, televised programs, food tastings, a gala dinner and two concerts open to the public - all held in English and Italian in the stunning UNESCO world heritage city of Matera, where Mel Gibson filmed The Passion.
So, what was the Women's Fiction Festival all about, and why should you attend next year?
— It was about networking with women's fiction authors, agents and editors, and ensuring our books sell well in Europe.
— It was about establishing women's fiction as a genre concept in the European market, where much of women's fiction is translated from English.
— It was about communication, diplomacy and intercultural exchange, sorely needed in our times.
— It was about understanding and respecting women's fiction in all its forms: romance, romantic suspense, literary, chick lit, mom lit, lady lit, family sagas, sister stories, friendship stories, travelogues, biofic, historicals, cozy mysteries, chick thrill, the list goes on.
— It was about publicly thanking our sponsors Harlequin Mondadori, Red Dress Ink, Italy, Openet, Chick Lit Writers of the World, Libreria dell'Archo and the city of Matera.
— It was about celebrating women and women's stories, and reminding the media that female linguistic virtuosity is what makes the publishing industry - and culture itself - possible.
And that's only the half of it.
The other half was about indulging our senses and reveling in Italian culture.
"Only after a few hours in Matera," says agent and foreign rights expert Malgorzata Borkowska, "I became aware of something I'd forgotten in my hectic job as an agent - slow silence... I much prefer intimate conferences like the Women's Fiction Festival. The Frankfurt Book Fair is an air-conditioned nightmare, with appointments jammed packed one after another and too much information for a body to handle comfortably. Enough! The information age has taxed us to the limit. It's time for book people to remember their bodies and soothe their senses. Matera is the perfect place to do that."
Author Sue Swift concurs. "I'm so glad I'm here. Before getting on the plane for the festival, I sent a proposal to my agent and my editor, so now I can recharge my batteries. I'm journaling again. I just spent two pages describing my incredibly exotic, well-designed hotel room. I didn't even bring my laptop. I know there's an internet cafe around here somewhere, but I don't want to hear about it."
Author Crystal Green was equally impressed by the quality of the conference content. "Even though the Women's Fiction Festival had a fraction of the attendees and workshops you'd find at a bigger conference like RWA National, I gleaned just as much information--and maybe more."
She was also moved by the warm welcome she received in Matera. "I was touched by how the town gathered together and celebrated what we're trying to do with our work. We were invited to unbelievably delicious private dinners, escorted around the town by enthusiastic English students from the high school, and treated to the magic of Matera's winding streets. I love my job."
The international press welcomed festival attendees as well. "I was impressed by the respect with which the Italian journalists treated the topic of women's fiction," author Barbara Hannay says of the press conference she attended. "There was none of the cynical jockeying for a controversial angle you sometimes see in the UK, US and Australia."
With praise like this, we must be doing something right. We hope you'll join us next year from September 21 to 24, 2005. In the meantime visit our site to check out the previous year's program.
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