And so this week’s moment of happiness despite the news.
I’m late again. I’m sorry!
It’s been an incredibly busy week. I’m following my usual teaching schedule, but I am also focusing on the launch of The Birth Of A Widow in a couple days. There’s excitement, of course, but there’s also a lot of anxiety. Will people come? Will I choke up or cry during the reading?
Years and years ago, I believe with my first book, The Home For Wayward Clocks, I was asked to appear at a bookstore in Green Bay. Of course I said yes. I decided to get a hotel room and stay overnight, spending the next day poking around Green Bay before heading home.
When I showed up at the bookstore, I was full of anticipation. The store was beautiful, and the section where I’d be speaking was carpeted, had stuffed chairs and couches, and just felt so cozy. I was delighted. The owner had two cats that stayed with her in the bookstore. So passing the time before the event began, we talked and I patted first one cat, then the other, and then back and forth. I kept glancing at the door, waiting for it to open and people to start coming in.
It didn’t. They didn’t.
The entire time I was there, no one came. Not even to shop. The only living beings in the bookstore were me, the owner, and her cats. It was like someone took out a billboard with my face on it and said, “Kathie Giorgio is in the bookstore. Stay away.”
The Packers weren’t even playing.
I laughed it off with the owner and her cats, but I returned to my hotel room, totally demoralized. In the morning, I got up and drove straight home.
It’s something I’ve never forgotten, and although I tend to pack in the crowds now, that’s not what I see when I start worrying about an appearance. I see Green Bay all over again.
Even now.
And I worry about being so incredibly personal, vulnerable, and transparent in front of an audience. The Birth Of A Widow isn’t about a fictional character. It’s about what happened to Michael and…what happened to me.
So. I’m nervous.
Then a few things happened, which, while not removing my anxiety, brought it down to a hum. First, I appeared on a morning television talk show here, The Morning Blend. I’ve been on it many times before, and I’m perfectly comfortable on camera. But this time, well, the morning show is very upbeat and positive. There’s a lot of laughter. It’s a great way to get through the morning.
And I was showing up to talk about a book about my dead husband. How was that going to go over?
It went just fine. The questions were thoughtful, the discussion even more so. I felt nothing but support from those who were there, and more importantly, I felt like my own support was going out over the airwaves to those who were watching.
When I walked through the halls to leave the station, I ran into Kim, the person who arranges the appearances. She gave me a huge hug, and then said, “I always read your Happy, every single week.”
Read my Happy? It took me a minute to understand she meant this blog.
She hugged me again and I walked out smiling.
I guess I’m personal, vulnerable and transparent here too.
When I got home, I found an email from a literary magazine, saying they wanted to publish a brand new poem, titled “Changing The Sheets”. I wrote this poem at the beginning of April, and this was the only place I submitted it to. The acceptance talked about how moved they were, how the poem affected them.
Oh, lovely. Even 17 books in, with #18 already under contract for next year, I still need some validation.
Right after that, I had a phone call from another literary magazine. They want me to consider being an editor there.
Whoa.
And then, right after that, I scrolled through my Facebook Memories, and discovered that 16 years ago, on that exact date, I received the acceptance for that first book, The Home For Wayward Clocks.
16 years ago. Book #17 launching on Saturday. Book #18, a novel, coming out next year.
If I needed validation, I could now type it with all capital letters and an exclamation point: VALIDATION!
It was my day off yesterday, even with the tv appearance, and I spent the rest of it mostly being quiet, sitting, thinking. Picking out what I’m going to read on Saturday. Wondering if anyone will show up. Wondering if I’ll choke up.
Wondering if I will do Michael proud. This book is really a gift for him. I wasn’t able to get the powers that be in Milwaukee to see that this driver did incredible, unfixable damage, that he killed a man. He did not just “fail to yield to a pedestrian.” Despite pounding on doors and walls, despite yelling into phones, to active voices, to nonresponsive voicemail, I couldn’t do a thing.
When I was in the midst of writing this book, which was a complete surprise to me, I was writing to myself. I was working through all the situations, all the hard parts, all the difficult emotions. All the loss. But then I decided to see if the book could be published, despite the vulnerability, the reveal of personal experience, the transparency.
Because I want to help others. Because something good has to come out of this. The whole experience will never be “worth it”. But something good has to come.
So the anxiety has been turned down to a hum I feel running through my veins. But I was reminded of what I can do this week.
Michael believed I could do anything. So I’m going to.
And yes, that helps. Despite. Anyway.
