Photo credit: Christopher Kautz
I picked her up in my old green Jeep. The passenger side had a faulty seat belt, but I knew that wouldn’t bother her. She was an up-for-anything kind of woman. We had mutual friends and I was lucky for it, because here was a famous author whose books had impacted me in my 20s, a woman who made me want to be a writer. Now we were both in the same town for a book festival. My first book was six months away from landing in bookstores. I emailed her ahead of time to ask if we could meet for an hour to talk. Long shot. She actually said yes.
In the parking lot of the Holiday Inn, my breath held. I may as well have been picking up the Queen of England...