The Bridge Between Where You Want to Be and Where You Are

On Saturday night I dragged Graham to the book party for Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six Word Memoirs from Writers Famous to Obscure. It's the first book party that I've been to that I had ANYTHING to do with, so I made us both go. Here's something that I've come to realize about the SEXY SOUNDING allure of book parties: They are parties filled with strangers (which to me is so NOT sexy). Although I have an outgoing streak, it's often to mask the HORRIBLE PARALYZING SHYNESS that I REALLY feel. I had to force myself to go to this one, because I had already been to Felicia's book party (Yay Felicia!!) earlier that week, and the feeling of awkwardness and shyness was still fresh.

Let's put it in numbers: I was 1 of 800 authors. Not all the authors were going to be there, but enough were going to be there with friends and family members, not to mention publishing folks and the editors and their friends--so it was going to be a BIG PARTY. Although I knew some other authors in the book, I didn't know anyone that was going to be there. I got nervous the minute we were on the subway.

Outside Housing Works, I saw David Rakoff waiting and looking for someone. I wanted to say, "Hey, I'm page 170 to your page 169!" But, that is in the fantasy part of my brain where I can talk to well-known people like that. The real me walked by him and said nothing, all the while my brain was popping with dazzling ferocity all kinds of intros I could have said to him.

We went in, and I was right, I knew no one, and I was freezing up faster than sidewalk cement. Graham and I walked up to the balcony and looked down at the throngs of people milling in and talking. Essentially we HID. Graham asked, "What do you want to do?" I wanted to go home, but then I didn't. I was playing a sort of hop scotch in my brain, hopping on every rationalization of why it would be okay to go home, and then hopping at another part of me that knew I was backing away from an opportunity. I started praying HELP HELP HELP HELP really hard. I was standing there at that place between fear and something new. I could go home and think about how I WANT things to be, or I could somehow do something to actively BE in a place that I wanted to be.

Then I remembered one of my favorite illustrators Peter Arkle was in the book and I knew he lived here, so I wondered if he might be in the throngs of people. But how in the world would I recognize him when I've only seen him in drawings? Then something came to me--an illustration of his wife, Amy--who had short, black hair, and I remembered that I had seen a couple earlier that kind of resembled them. So I scanned the crowd and UNBELIEVABLY I found them. I had no idea if it was really him, but I thought WHAT THE HELL, this is the bridge between what I want and what I have, and I really wanted to meet Peter.

As it turned out it was him and he knew who I was and it was GREAT. Peter is not only a really gifted illustrator, but a really NICE guy. This is also what I forget about book parties, there really ARE cool people who go to these things. Amy is a kick ass editor, who has edited a book by adolescent girls, called Red. Peter did some of the jacket artwork. It really MADE my whole night that I was able to not only meet someone I greatly admire, but that I had the GUTS to do it. Yay Amy and Peter! Yay everybody!

Then I went home and felt totally BAD ASS and Graham asked if he could not go to book parties anymore. I was so BAD ASS that I said with all the certainty in the world, "Sure, hon."