How it All Began

 

Here I am, standing in front of Gramercy Tavern in NYC in February 2007. If I look terrified, it's because I am. I was waiting to have lunch with the man who is the executor of the M.F.K. Fisher Estate. He's the man who gave me permission to do nearly all of the essential research for my book. He's also my agent. 

But on the cold February day in the photo he was a stranger. A terrifying stranger. Out of sheer anxiety, I'd done everything possible to prepare for our meeting. I'd sent writing samples, studied my Fisher prose, picked just the right outfit, and checked a huge Emily Post book out from the library to be sure I knew which fork to use, and when. 

It's hard to believe that that anxious girl pulled it off. She loosened up (the glass of wine helped) and managed, somehow, to sell herself and a book idea in between bites of lunch. 

I'm hopeful my agent didn't see me when I tripped on the way to the bathroom, and if he did, that he already liked me enough to consider it part of my charm.