All in Moderation

By: Mr. Marshall

 

An inside look at the preparations and people involved in Mr. Marshall’s experience at the 19th Annual Ubud Writers and Readers Festival 

 

A month ago I was fortunate enough to be asked by Janet De Neefe, acclaimed author of Fragrant Rice (which is one of the answers to one of the oft-asked questions of what book should one read to learn about authentic Bali?) and founder of the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival to moderate two panels at the 2022 version of the Festival, which is generally considered to be the most prominent literary festival in Southeast Asia. After being fully online in 2020 and mostly virtual in 2021, the 19th incarnation of the Festival was full back in person this past weekend. 

The Festival takes place over 4 days across various venues around Ubud and while offering eclectic experiences like book launches, readings, author spotlights, art programs, interviews with journalists, concerts, panel discussions, publishing advice and more, the umbrella under which the aura of the festival resides is one of the power and enjoyment of literacy, learning and humanity. The majority of the Festival events can be found within walking distance of each other on Jalan Raya Sanggingan in northwest Ubud.  

I was tasked with moderating two discussion events, one on Thursday (receiving authorization to miss school that day) to open the Festival and the other on Sunday, near the conclusion. Both were with three authors who primarily write fiction; one panel was concerned with how writers create compelling fiction and the other on how do writers write about real historical events through a historical fiction frame.  My first questions (to Janet and her excellent Festival coordinator, Fern) was why would she ask me, what am I supposed to do and how do I do it? When I think of moderating or hosting an event in a compelling way, my mind immediately goes to Howard Stern’s epic NSFW interviews and games of the mid to late 1990s on American FM radio, shocking and entertaining Americans during the morning rush hour. One thing I did know was that this was not going to be that. 

After Janet and Fern gave me some valuable but light on details advice, I got to work, still not really knowing what exactly would be considered doing the job “well”. I did get a helpful kick in the pants when the 5 authors (one author, Mirandi Riwoe, was on both panels) all sent me the newest works via PDF email (some before their public release) at generally the same exact time. My first goal was to read their latest books (or collection of short stories and novellas) immediately; only then, upon conclusion, would I be able to craft genuine, relevant and hopefully attention-keeping questions, both to the whole panel (and pray all the authors chime in) as well as to direct questions to the authors as individuals. This latter task reminded me of daydreaming about meeting a famous person that you admire, playing it out in your head. If I ever get the chance, I want to say something hip and unique, so they’ll know I am not some mainstream poser! 

Having to read the five books, remember important parts, stow away info for later recall all under the guillotine of a hard deadline ratcheted up the anxiety. 

But then a great thing happened; the books turned out to be really good, with a couple even being excellent (One wasn’t that good and I admit, I didn’t even finish it….but the author doesn’t know that, so keep quiet.). Riwoe’s The Burnished Sun, Isna Marifa’s Mountains More Ancient and Julia Prendergast’s Bloodrust were all quite good, with Allen C. Jones’s Her Death Was Also Water legitimately laying claim to be a great work (I predict a movie will be made). 

Besides alleviating my worries about finishing all the books in time, the experience was wonderfully educational and added to my reading repertoire; I would not have been exposed to these books in such a way without having had the duty to read them. It was an experience that was technically work but didn’t feel like it, and I am grateful to the Festival for exposing me to these joyous reads. That is, after all, one of the main points of a literary festival in the first place.  I was also genuinely giddy about being to smother these writers with authentic compliments. 

I then set to work emailing the two groups of authors, introducing them to myself and each other, laying down the obligatory (but honest) compliments and giving them the scheduling details of the festival, trying to both elicit excitement as well as quell any concerns they may have. Thankfully, all the authors were chilled out professionals, who were agreeable and kind. Look at us, all making new friends! 

Everyone responded in a matter of days and I told them to stand by for a list of questions I would (probably) ask at the Festival, divided into questions for the whole group and for individual authors and their works. With only 60 minutes per session and 10 to 15 minutes reserved at the end for audience questions, plus 5 minutes at the beginning for introductions and niceties, the list of 10 plus questions I sent would not realistically be explored in full. My best hope was to get 5 questions for the main group, then one each for each author (one for each person for a total of three, knowing I had to create two for Mirandi, who probably wouldn’t appreciate – and neither would potential audience members in attendance for both her sessions – the same question being asked on two separate days) while leaving time for the audience.

After a few days I sent a list of questions to the authors and asked them to ruminate on them and to be prepared for these questions on the day of their respective events. Some authors responded with enthusiasm at the intricacy of questions focused on their specific work, while the rest acknowledged the homework I had given them and promised to do their part. 

A few more emails back and forth and voilá, Festival day was upon us. I drove up early on October 27th, a scorching Thursday morning with old reliable Bali traffic accompanying me. I arrived only 40 minutes ahead of the time of the first panel, which to me was actually late. After some gentle and polite explanations to the scurrying volunteers at the ticket booth that I had a pass waiting for me (no, really, I do!), I made my way to the “green room”. However that was only after having some variation of the following conversation with three different well meaning attendees in the thirty meter walk from the entrance to the event room…

 

No sir I am not a writer. Yes sir, I understand the pass says speaker but I am just hosting the panel, you see. No, I haven’t written any books, because, again, I’m not a writer. What’s that? What’s the name of my book? Well, none since I am not writer, as I explained. My name? Eh, it’s not important since, you know, I am just hear hel[ping out by moderating. You’ve never heard of me? Oh well that’s to be expected because, like I said, I’M NOT A WRITER.

 

Two of the authors on my first panel, Mirandi Riwoe and Allen C. Jones, were already in the staging area when I arrived, Mirandi sitting silently and reading and Allen chatting with his publisher, a friendly woman whose name I can’t remember. I timidly introduced myself and then them to each other. Julie Prendergast, a regal women with plenty of refined energy, came in shortly afterward, and our team was assembled.  This was my favorite part of the Festival; the first moments of actualization of a month of preparation, meeting these people whom I had come to know and respect in only a matter of weeks and having their in-person dispositions actually exceed their kindness in email. 

Even though they had success in their fields, there was a bit of palpable nervousness amongst the panel guests. This was quickly relieved however as I walked them through the vague plan I had; introductions, both about themselves and their works, about four to fix questions for the entire group (in which I informed them to just jump and start speaking, being mindful of the others but also not waiting for me to give them “approval” to speak), one individual question for each of the three of them and then throwing it to the audience for questions. 

We were introduced by a wonderfully professional, competent and organised volunteer from the Festival (all of the volunteers and Festival staff, who seemed to be mostly Indonesian, were so well trained and so good at their jobs that I simply must mention them here). From there, all our planning and communication beforehand immediately paid off. Using my notes while also battling the stifling humidity of the non-air conditioned traditional Balinese-decorated “rumah buku”, the panel was able to resolutely converse, with me saying as little as possible and ensuring the authors (who the audience came to see) were the ones with the most “airtime”. I did jump in a few times to comment on Allen’s book (“Trent, one of your characters,  wasn’t a bad guy I don’t think.”)

Being a moderator is similar to doing a eulogy at a funeral; you are there to promote and hold up others, while also guiding the audience through your own talk. You may have relevant stories to the situation, or a steadfast opinion you just know who fit snugly into the context, but it’s not the time for that. The key is to set other people up so they can best promote themselves or their ideas; be the friend to the audience to help give them what they want. 

          The session was a success                                      

because the authors had given thought to the questions they knew were coming. They were friendly and engaging with the audience. They were also kind to me and made me look more intertwined to the book world than I am, though I did take hours crafting specific questions based off of their works, which was both a fun experience but also taxing; my primary goal was to avoid any of these professional writers to think I was stupid. Anything after that was a way distant second concern. 

The next session was at the end of the festival, on Sunday afternoon. I was joined by Isna Marifa, the author of a fantastic book, Mountains More Ancient, which is the only historical fiction book about the plight of Malay (or what would one day be Indonesia) servants and slaves being sent to South Africa in the late 18th century as well as an award-winning Portugese author who writes about historical explorers (we were also joined by Silvia Barros, who may be better known to the BIS Community as Mr. Llamas’s wife, who served as an English translator) and Mirandi Riwoe once again. 

It was in this session that any moderator skills I may have accrued since Thursday would be tested. Using the same formula as before regarding timing, types of questions and audience participation, I immediately ran into a roadblock. When throwing the first question to our panel, the two ladies on the panel handled things deftly, providing informative answers in a timely manner. The third author was a bit of a different story. His first answer ran almost 3 minutes, and this is with stops and starts for Sylvia to translate. Exchanging quick glances with Sylvia, but also knowing the audience of at least 100 people were watching the stage, we tried to communicate without comment or facial gesture. That communication was, how do we get him to finish this answer?

Sensing the audience growing slightly bored, I cut him off with a quick “ah, yes, that reminds me of my next question”, which was not true but was the only way I saw out of this potential black hole of audience discontent. The content of his answers were perfectly acceptable. The issue was the amount of time being used. 

At this point my focus was now split between continuing to ask questions to the authors and making sure the audience got the most out of their answers but now also ensuring said author didn’t hijack too much time. Of course he is entitled to his fair share, but more than that and we risked having an interest panel marred by too much from one participant.

The next question was equally shared by all, and my worries started to recede. However, they quickly came back after a question about composite characters. Once again he began to basically retell his entire short story The Sea Heaven, which, while an interesting read, was not something I thought he should explain to all of us to its conclusion. After about two minutes of his telling I again had to jump in with something both complementary and halting, paraphrasing something along the lines of save the rest of your story so people have to buy the book! Thankfully, that did the trick. 

The rest of the session went off as expected, save for the first audience questioning being Janet, the festival’s founder, herself. Hers was a short question directed at Isna, the author of the slavery in South African novel. As she asked it, my mind went back to times in my childhood, when, say, your parents would appear somewhere you didn’t expect them and you were actually doing what you were supposed to be doing, or when a supervisor at work surprises you with an office visit and you’re actually doing your job. 

Overall, I have to fully and without any reservations recommend the Festival, as both someone who was lucky enough to be asked to humbly contribute to it as well as as an attendee (in between my two sessions I attended seven other sessions as an observer, which were all interesting). There are healthy discounts for KITAS holders, students and Indonesian nationals. 

Let’s do it again next year. Just be mindful of the clock.