The organizers of the National Book Festival, now in its 11th year, know how to draw a crowd early. The fest has typically slated the biggest names for the opening slots, and on Saturday tents filled at 10 a.m. for PBS anchor/novelist Jim Lehrer, longtime Post columnist Eugene Robinson, and Nobel-winning novelist Toni Morrison, who took part in a spirited discussion with critic Michael Dirda before an overflow crowd. Asked whether she had ever taught her own work to students, she laughed, aghast. "[Teaching my work] defeats the whole purpose of being a critical reader," she said. "I'd be saying, 'No, I'm right, and you're wrong.'" (That got a big laugh. The picture above shows Morrison after the session, the golf cart ferrying her to the signing tent slowed by surrounding fans.)

Morrison's comment is representative of a particular kind of noise that authors often make when they're in a public forum like the National Book Festival. Writers are supposed to project a cultivated modesty regarding their work when they talk about it—they don't foist it on students, don't say the work is easy, and don't make it all about them. Russell Banks quoted one of his early mentors, Nelson Algren, who told him, "A writer who knows what he's doing doesn't know very much." Rightfully much-decorated novelist Jennifer Egan shared a few war stories about writing her awful first novel ("I literally couldn't save a word") and eagerly getting out of her own environment to write. "The worst advice I ever got was, 'Write what you know,'" she said. "I don't like to write about myself or the people I know." Before reading a few pages from his novel in progress, Dave Eggers mentioned it was only the second time he'd read it in public. "It won't sound very polished, but we're in a tent," he quipped.

The syndrome isn't unique to novelists. Asked how she decides what to write books about, Sarah Vowell smirkingly responded, "First the idea has to sound terrible." Longtime Post book critic Jonathan Yardley, discussing his book on rereading, Second Reading, copped to his own early ineptitude; his first assignment as a reviewer was Saul Bellow's Herzog, "which of course I didn't understand a word of."

That's not to say that the collective modesty was false, or that the authors were engaged in literary humblebragging. But there was a dearth of writers eager to talk a lot about themselves—among the various genres represented across the fest's six tents, memoir was absent. (Another overflow crowd showed up at the Contemporary Life tent for Amy Chua, author of Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, but that book is a memoir of the most pragmatic sort, praising tough parenting instead of mining a rough childhood for humor or pathos.) So it was refreshing to see Baltimore crime writer Laura Lippman deliver a no-nonsense, assured talk about her writing process that was free of self-effacing gestures. She recalled a writer's conference where she was left fuming at a Famous Author who delivered awful advice, and how she bore down at that moment to come up with the idea for her next book. Waiting for one's muse to show up? Nuts to that. "If I waited for my muse to show up, I don't think I would've finished my first novel."

Questions for Lippman inevitably turned a couple of times to her husband, journalist and TV writer-producer David Simon. Asked which Baltimore writers' work she admired—besides him, of course—she joked, "You're presuming I like my husband's?" Well, she must: She later mentioned that she's collaborating with him and D.C. crime novelist George Pelecanos on a project that she's not yet at liberty to discuss, but which is "not anything you can possibly imagine."

*Elizabeth Berkley plans to write a self-help book to help boost young girls' self-esteem. Presumably it'll skip the whole section about doing a movie where you snort coke, have sex in a pool, and push the lead showgirl down the stairs so you can take her place in a topless Vegas extravaganza. Though hopefully it will reference this little "live and learn" nugget from the greatest moment in the best series that ever aired on television:

*Joss Whedon is almost probably pretty close to maybe definitely directing Marvel's latest superheroes flick, The Avengers.

*Nicki Minaj announces she's pulling out of Rihanna's summer tour to work on her own debut album. Ke$ha remains on the bill. (If the three of them recorded a song together, it'd be the best worst catchy song ever.)

*A blog called Stupid Fight determines which celebrity followers are more... well, stupid. Qualifiers for the less astute include calculating the number of excess exclamation points, "OMG"s and the like. According to some recent battles, Lady Gaga fans are dumber than followers of Justin Bieber, Insane Clown Posse's fans are more intelligent than those who tweet Green Day, and Slayer and Metallica fans are pretty evenly matched. (Rachel Maddow fans come out on top when up against Glenn Beck, and Stephen Fry's fans are pretty smart when compared to Kim Kardashian's "dumb as a bag of hammers" crowd.)

*HBO announces its newest drama Treme has already been renewed for a second season. Is anyone truly surprised this new series is also awesome?

*Producer DJ Premier says Kanye West is ditching electro and going back to pure hip-hop for his fifth album.

*Scissor Sisters announce via Twitter that they'll have a new album out at the end of June.

*That TV show about awkward singers with the high ratings and a cast of continually skyrocketing popularity came back from its hiatus last night. So if you don't want to read about Glee, I suggest you steer away from your Facebook feed.

Edgar Allan Poe, alcoholic inventor of Gothic literature, died in Baltimore on October 7, 1849. Charm City commemorates the 160th anniversary of his death this week. But what does Poe have in common with David Simon, Baltimore native and creator of HBO's "The Wire?"

Edgar Allen Poe: Deliberately sought court-martial at West Point to pursue career as a visionary writer. "I have no energy left, nor health," he wrote his guardian. "I shall neglect my studies and duties at the institution."
David Simon: Left the Baltimore Sun to pursue career as a visionary TV series creator. "I got out of journalism because some sons of bitches bought my newspaper and it stopped being fun," he told the Baltimore City Paper.

EAP: Won acclaim for "MS. Found in a Bottle," a sea-adventure tale that, according to biographer Kenneth Silverman, "creates a sustained crescendo of ever-building dread in the face of ever-stranger and ever-more-imminent catastrophe."
DS: Won acclaim for Homicide, a non-fiction book and television show that celebrates the human ability overcome the catastrophe that is murder. "[It's] very much a celebration of the human spirit under pressure," Simon told the Baltimore City Paper.

EAP: Set the standard for compelling Gothic literature with the poem "The Raven," in which an unnamed narrator is tormented by an eerie bird. "Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore," Poe wrote. "Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore./Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore.'"
DS: Set the standard for compelling cable television on Season 4 of The Wire, in which serial murderers Chris and Snoop torment the enemies of druglord Marlo Stanfield with eerie apathy. "When you think of Chris and Snoop, think of John Allen Muhammad and Lee Boyd Malvo, only smart," Stephen King wrote. "And with a nail gun."

EAP: Died in Baltimore after a bender with, according to onlookers, a look of "vacant stupidity."
DS: Concluded the final season of the The Wire with a bender of sloganeering against anti-corporate journalism that, according to some critics, was stupid.