Monthly Archives: July 2010

Two days later I stepped off an elevator onto the top floor of a building on Union Square. I had been working with my agent, Stacey Glick, for the last two years, but our France-to-New York communication had been entirely by phone and email. Now I was about to meet her for the first time.

I stepped through the door labeled “Dystel and Goderich Literary Management” to see, instead of several uniformed guards sitting at the front desk, a woman dressed in something pretty who smiled and told me Stacey would be right out. I breathed a sigh of relief – this meeting would low-key.

As Stacey walked through the door I felt my hand rising for the corporate shake, but, like my editor, she too surprised me with a hug. I felt welcome right away, as she gave me a tour of the agency and introduced me around. READ MORE…

People began filing into the conference room. Before they sat down, everyone came up to shake my hand and introduce herself. I didn’t even try to remember the names, afraid my brain might Ctrl+Alt+Del if I put it under any further stress.

Once we were about ten around the table, Tara said we could start. Most of the crowd was from publicity and marketing and the questions they asked were meant to help them position the book and dig up information that could be of interest in promoting DIE FOR ME.

They asked me how I had come up with the idea for the book. How I had created my monsters. Where I had found the word “revenant”. Where I found my inspiration. Why I had set the book in Paris. What it was like to live in France. If I wrote full-time or had other activities. And lots of other questions that I couldn’t remember now if you gave me a million dollars because I was SO DAMN NERVOUS and just trying to respond to everything in a way that would not involve me having to take a Converse off and play contortionist in order to stick my foot firmly into my mouth. READ MORE…

I stepped through the door of the HarperCollins building and gave my name to a guard at the front desk. She checked some information on a computer screen and printed out a visitor’s sticker for me. “Put it here,” she said, indicating a spot near my shoulder. Attaching something gooey to my brand new shirt just wasn’t going to happen. I smiled innocently at her and stuck it to the side of my handbag.

A few minutes later a pretty dark-haired woman wearing cute bookish glasses and a flared skirt stepped through the security gate and stood in front of me. It was my editor, Tara Weikum. After four phone conversations and dozens of emails, I was finally meeting her in the flesh.

I got ready to shake her hand, but instead she gave me a hug. I couldn’t help but smiling. In France I never know how many kisses to give. Now, in my own country I was having the same greeting-etiquette confusion. READ MORE…

Here’s a confession: I have never wept in a drag queen bar. Until two weeks ago, that is.

It happened at the tail-end of a 2 1/2-week visit to the States with Laurent and the kids. We had car, train and planed it from Restigne to New York. After a few days in Shelter Island, it was back to the airport, where we took three planes to Walla Walla, Washington for my family reunion. Then back to New York for a week, where Laurent and I traded off toddler-management while the other person worked.

The Brooklyn apartment we had sublet had only beds and kitchen stuff – no tv, internet connection, toys, etc. – since our host was in the midst of moving. It was also an hour’s subway ride to the center of town, which we hadn’t counted on. The temperature was in the 90s – too hot to stay for long in an in-town playground. And the kids weren’t used to walking long city blocks. So, besides taking them to the Natural History Museum and several films – indoor activities – our only option was sitting around in an empty apartment and watching dvds on my computer. It was pretty hard going. READ MORE…