1. I wish I had met an author when I was like ten. Because my dream was always to be a writer, and then I might not have waited so long.
2. The first author I met was my journalism professor who gave me a really bad grade and caused me to switch majors, and my dream of being a writer pretty much died then and there. My memories of that author have been repressed, so I will have to tell you about the second.
3. Truth be told, I didn't know the second author was an author when I first met her.
4. Until I met this author, I thought all authors ( other than the one giving out bad grades in journalism) lived in New York City and walked on water.
5. My husband and I had just returned from Africa and the Peace Corps and were living in Bozeman, Montana. I took a job as a barista at The Leaf and Bean. Within a month, the owner made me the manager.
6. The owner was Jessie Close. I didn't know anything about her other than she had two boys and was a fun boss and a good friend and had a fabulous laugh that made me laugh, too.
7. After a couple months, I found out she co-owned The Leaf and Bean with her very famous sister, Glenn.
8. About that time, I also found out Jessie was an author. Her YA novel is called "The Warping of Al." I went to the Bozeman library that very day and checked it out. It's good.
9. All my theories about authors went out the window. That dream of mine, the one about being a writer, started to itch its way back into my consciousness. I began to think about it. A lot.
10. It took me a couple years, but I did start writing stories. And sending stuff in. Thinking maybe I could be an author, too. Thanks, Jessie.
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5 comments:
"I thought all authors lived in NYC and walked on water."
I still think this sometimes; even now, I'm like a drooling fangirl around my favorite writers.
I'm glad you repressed memories of the dream-killer and found someone to inspire you to try again.
Was this REALLY Glenn Close's sister? REALLY?
If so... did Jessie dislike being ignored? Was there always boiling water nearby? And rabbits?
Jacqui, I still think that sometimes too:)
Eyeball: No rabbits. But our uniforms were dalmation print...
Stephanie,
I love this story about the author you worked for.
Dear Steph,
I remember I first time I went to New York to meet with an editor. I felt like this ceiling disappeared: How could I, at the deepest tip of the south, be here?
The imaginged ceiling, evaporated.
Thanks for the sharing.
Always,
Betsy . . .
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