On Wednesday night, I had dinner at Russian Tea Time, sharing a table with Audrey Niffenegger.
I’d bid on and won the seat through Evanston Public Library Friends‘ Armchair Auction. The 11 other lucky bidders came from varied backgrounds, covering an age range from college student to retiree.
Blink and you may not have noticed Audrey’s entrance – because contrary to popular belief, bestselling authors put one foot in front of the other just like the rest of us. They also sit at tables, introduce themselves, and seek fellow guests’ names just like we do. When the introductions reached me, I shook her hand and said my name.
But this wasn’t the first time I’d met Audrey.
In July 2007, Ms. Niffenegger gave an illuminating discussion and Q&A on THE TIME TRAVELER’S WIFE at the Chicago History Museum. Afterwards, she signed my limited-run first edition, complete with her own jacket illustration: a beautiful sea of flowing red hair. And I got up some sort of gumption. I told her about a short story I planned to develop into a book, and could she take a peek? (I’d like to imagine I was very charming.)
Audrey has a flair for creating real, flawed characters, so I’d probably mentioned that and a few other nervous blubberings. Out of an outsized kindness, she invited me to send her the story. Wow, was I ever excited, and so lucky – the chances of this happening have to be slim, given Audrey’s multiple, established, and busy careers as a writer, artist, and teacher.
I sent her the short story that same night.
Less than two weeks later, I received several paragraphs of questions, comments, and notes from Audrey. Totally unexpected, wonderful food for the mind. She also said I was an “interesting writer” and she’d be glad to see the next stage of the story.
More than three years passed. Audrey’s email and her recommendations to read “The Lottery” and re-read THE HANDMAID’S TALE helped shape the novel-length version of THIRTY DECIBELS. (Back then it was named FIFTEEN, until the Boring Police called.) I outlined, wrote a few chapters, stalled a bit, completed draft one, and hurtled through many months of revisions.
So when Audrey shook my hand on Wednesday night, I expected to be a new face.
Instead, her head tilted the tiniest bit.
“We’ve met.”
“Yes.”
“I read your story.”
Oh. My. God.
“I’m so impressed you remember!”
I guess that was the best reply I could come up with. I’d like to imagine I was very charming.
The evening couldn’t have been more engaging. Nearly all of us had fine arts backgrounds. We discussed the merits of rye bread. We laughed about silly things, and reflected on sad things. Technically we were strangers, but for at least that night, we were good friends.
And someone – let alone an incredible writer – remembered reading my story, three years later.
That is SO COOL!
Thanks, Michelle. I still can’t believe it…
Outstanding, Margo! After three years.. and who knows how many faces she seen, hands she’s shaken, stories she read… this has to be a great omen. Cloud Nine!
Thank you, Jodi.
Yes – a capital C, capital N Cloud Nine. With some kinda diamond lining. :)
Wow. That encounter is made of awesome. Can’t wait to read THIRTY DECIBELS!
Shayda, I agree wholeheartedly!
Thanks again for your support. :)
That is a cool story, and what a great experience. I’m jealous! ;)
Hey, Margo! No reason to be jealous. Maybe ANY writer-Margo would have had a similar experience. ;)
Lovely that you had this experience Margo. I’m so pleased for you. It sounds like you had a wonderful time.
I just read Audrey’s About me page at her website yesterday and the way she feels about books is the way I feel. A paper book is a sacred object. It’s wonderful to see someone who has had commercial success discussing keeping books that you can hold in your hand in the main stream. I’m really worried about traditional books becoming extinct. I salute her for standing up for the written page by not allowing her books to be sold in electronic form. You don’t see many people putting principles before paychecks these days.
Thank you, Karen. I’ll never ever forget it.
I absolutely believe physical books cannot be replaced. Sacred, as you said. Traditional books play a role in Thirty Decibels, in fact, a hundred years into the future. :)
The smell and the heft of a book are incomparable… I think the technology will eventually find a happy medium, where pages can still be turned in a digital format. I haven’t read a full ebook yet, but I can’t imagine the gauge of reading progress, much less the satisfaction upon reaching the end, is anywhere near the same when “pages” aren’t real pages. When they stack up to nothing. So I can definitely relate to Audrey on that.
PS:
I’ve had some lovely opportunities come my way since you and jodi invited me into the armchair auction. Thanks again for bringing me into the fold.
Hugs!
Karen :0)
Wow, I’m so glad to hear, Karen! I love news like that. It feels like we stuck it even more to the poo-pooers in Evanston for putting the libraries in a lurch. “See, you sillies? Some damn fine lemonade!!”