Autumn in New York
Why does it seem so inviting?
Autumn in New York
It spells the thrill of first-knighting
Glittering crowds and shimmering clouds
In canyons of steel
Theyre making me feel...I'm home.
A couple of weeks ago, I packed my shoulder bag with a change of clothes and a notebook and hopped a plane to NYC for a slew of firsts: first time meeting my editor...first time navigating the trains by myself...first time visiting my agency...first time...eating a popover the size of my head:
I stayed with my cousin, Karin, who took me to Popover Cafe. Here we are, enjoying the ambiance:
We did a lot of reminiscing about camping trips gone awry, seeing E.T. for the first time together (there's a story there...a blackmail story, to be sure), and cuddled up in her big chair to enjoy an epi of Gossip Girl. My first time...and it felt so naughty. The beauty. The wealth. The clothes. The...whoah. It's not My So-Called Life, is it.
Then I woke up to the most gorgeous view from her apartment:
Then she kept me from getting completely lost on the B train on the way to HarperCollins, where I got to meet with my (insert 5,000 stupendous adjectives) editor.
I had all of these worries - would she like me in person? Would the conversation be awkward? Would I be a complete idiot and spill o.j. all over myself at breakfast? But as soon as she said "Hello," I realized I didn't have anything to worry about - in some ways, we are exactly on the same page. I came away feeling excited, inspired, and very very lucky.
Then it was off to see my agent in his native environment, the hallowed halls of McIntosh & Otis, where I stood in awe of the many classics taken in hand by his predecessors and felt a bit staggered and humbled by his own impressive wall of books. In fact, here we are in front of it (courtesy of his lovely and talented assitant, Abigail):
We talked about details, serendipity, and a third book idea (he likes it! woohoo!).
Both of them sent me home with books - my editor, an ARC of the forthcoming Faery Rebels: Spell Hunter, by R.J. Anderson (which I read all the way home and loved), and my agent, the picture book Wabi Sabi, by Mark Reibstein and illustrated by Ed Young, and his own essay in Bob Dylan and Philosophy. For the remarkable story of the Wabi Sabi illustrations, see editor Alvina's posts on Blue Rose Girls. I was incredibly touched to receive them.
So, now that I'm home, it's back to work - except maybe today, as I anxiously await election results and hope for serendipity to strike again...