Lately I’ve felt like I’ve been watching my life through someone else’s eyes – kind of like I’ve been in a weird out-of-body mode where good, bad or ugly it doesn’t always seem like it’s actually happening to me (or rather, I can’t believe it’s happening to me. See my previous “Being Brenda” entry).
And last night was no exception. I had one of those very weird, very magical kind of nights that only could have happened in New York City.
One of my most favorite things to do is to attend writer’s book readings/signings. (I’m also a sucker for general discussions, seminars and panel discussions.) Not only do I get a kick out of seeing a favorite author live and in color (where inevitably my face will flush a brilliant red, I’ll get all tongue-tied, and ramble on about how much of a fan I am. I’m now realizing that I probably come off as a total awkward weirdo. Rats!)
Alas, I devour their words of advice and am fascinated when they talk about their process, the craft, the struggles and the successes. And when they tell the aspiring writers that rejection is part of the biz and to just keep at it (they did!). To get your butt in the chair and write. After all, writers write. I know that’s the truth, but somehow when I hear it from Jennifer Weiner or Patricia Cornwall or Emily Giffen it just seems that much more true.
And I can’t help but dream that someday it’ll be me up there – proudly reading from my novel, answering questions about how I write (I’m a full-on pantser) and why I write (Because I don’t know how not to write. I’m the girl who has conversations in her head, writes dialogue in the shower and has always had a wild imagination). And I hope there are more than five people in the room and that the audience is not made up of my parents and the people who earn their paycheck by working in the very fictional bookstore I am reading in.
But I digress…
Last night I had the extreme pleasure of seeing Linda Fairstein speak, for the launch of her latest novel, Silent Mercy. I can’t even count how many times I’ve seen her, but I’ve been a fan of the Alex Cooper series since Final Jeopardy. (And I should probably be ashamed to confess that she’s the reason I tried…and fell in love with…Chanel No 22). They are the kind of books that make me want to write. And any books that pay such a tribute to NYC the way hers do, suck me right in (same goes for books that do Boston the justice I think it deserves…the city formerly known as my home).
But back to Linda Fairstein – I have so much respect for her professional career, her writing talent and the time she devotes to charities. When she talks about her work in the DA’s office and when she talks about researching her books, she has so much passion. When she launched her last book, Hell Gate, she did a co-panel with Kate White, who was launching Hush. I didn’t know that they’ve been friends for years and watching the two of them “interview” each other, was almost like having the chance to eavesdrop on the cool girls’ table in the cafeteria – the kind of girls I wished I was friends with (hell, I wished I was one of the cool girls).
And while every Fairstein talk I’d seen in the past never failed to disappoint, last night took a total turn for the strange. It was at a Barnes & Noble and as usual, there was a good crowd of people. And all was going well until a person in the crowd started shouting at her, referencing the Central Park jogger case she prosecuted some 20 years ago. (To note, I am not here to talk politics or to pretend to understand the intricacies of investigating a case or to claim to understand how it feels to walk even a day in the shoes of anyone involved. I’m just a girl, telling a story.)
Shouts quickly burst out from all corners of the room (apparently this wasn’t the first time this group performed an informal protest). I’d be lying if I said my stomach didn’t drop a bit. There’s often a police presence at her events, presumably for this very reason. (But where on earth were they now?). And I’ve read enough crime novels and watched enough Law & Order (and lived enough life) to know that bad things happen. I did take some solace in the fact that one of the crowd-screamers was holding a small child, so while the screaming was surreal, it seemed like it simply meant to be an obnoxious disruption.
But Fairstein didn’t lose her cool. Her voice never wavered. And in between apologies to the rest of the crowd, she went so far as to invite her hecklers to share their names with the crowd, rather than to chant. God bless the B&N event coordinator who clearly go more than he bargained for while covering this event. He offered to usher Fairstein offstage (she refused, and I felt like I got a glimpse of what she must have been like in the courtroom) before he contacted security to remove the disruptive group. Even members of the audience got into the mix, saying they were here to talk about books, not pending court battles. And while the whole kerfuffle probably lasted about two minutes, it was two very long minutes of “I can’t believe I am witnessing this crazy drama.”
The event quickly got back on course thanks to Fairstein who readily took questions about writing, researching and what it was like to be one of seven women (along with about 200 men) in the DA’s office back in the seventies. And at the end of it all, I felt like I had such a unique glimpse of a woman who is so many things (smart, funny, strong, inspirational, generous and ambitious to name a few) but who is also fundamentally human.
Happily I positioned myself just right (front row, aisle seat) so that I could promptly hop on the book signing line for my first personalized Fairstein:
And as if that wasn’t cool enough, she was also handing out bookmarks and bags of M&M’s that are imprinted with her name and Silent Mercy:
Drama, inspiration and treats? Does it get any better?
Well, I’m here to say it does.
It was such a nice night (i.e. the wicked wind and crazy rain finally came to an end) I decided to enjoy the thirty-block walk home. And as I made my way down Third I spotted Real Housewives star Ramona and her husband Mario while they were leaving dinner and saying good-bye to friends. I made eye contact with Mario, but quickly looked away, playing it cool, like the cool girl I am.
Don’t believe I’m that cool? Well, I waited a *whole* block before I texted one of my friends to share the sighting! Maybe Kate and Linda will let me sit at their table next time.
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