A NEW YORK MINUTE
BROOKLYN, New York – I signal Ronna. "Roll me back, back!"
She smiles and reads another writer's bio instead. Susan Tiberghien presents her story, then Sara Woster.
"Now?" Ronna whispers from the podium.
I glance over my shoulder into the crowd. "Not yet."
She segues into her own tale, Hooked On Octopus in Molyvos. As Vangelis resuscitates the tiny fish – what a passage! – I find the face in the audience that's mine. (The only one, thanks to my lackadaisical publicity. But also the one that would matter most: Merman's).
And then the Greece, A Love Story launch – held at the fiercely indie Community Bookstore – flows for me. I stand and read the eulogy for my marriage ... the story, written not to spite my ex, but to celebrate human resilience, once love is lost.
Today – all in absurdist French heels – I met with my literary agent, flaunted my work in Brooklyn and clinked champagne flutes with a brilliant, gorgeous man, echoed in the bistro's smoked mirrors.
Maybe that's my 15 minutes right there...
Time enough for anyone.
Nice, Amanda!
ReplyDeleteAnd I think it's great that your snookums was there with you. It's hard to tell by the light in the picture, but is that a pink shirt you're wearing?
Pink? Me? NEVER!
ReplyDeletePink and beige and pistacchio stripes, maybe...