I arrived in the city Monday night the 12th and had just enough time to change and meet fellow finalist and Little, Brown author Sherman Alexie, our editor, Jennifer Hunt, and our publicists to walk over to dinner with the Little, Brown Books for Young Readers crew. Dinner was lovely and lively. If Sherman and I had been in school together, I’m guessing there would have been a lot of “Do I have to separate you two?” from teachers. We share a number of similar life experiences, as well as a certain sense of humor that can only be forged in the fires of dysfunction. A highlight of the night was finally meeting my editor’s crackerjack assistant, T.S.

Tuesday morning was the big Teen Press Conference for the Young People’s Literature finalists at the Donnell Library, known for its awesome YA librarians and Teen Central. I should point out here that we rode over in a big black Escalade, cuz that’s how we roll at LBYR, yo! At the library, about 200 teens from local schools filled the auditorium. The National Book Foundation made these really cool press kits for the teens with full-color info sheets on each book and author, stuff about the National Book Foundation, and a book mark to commemorate the event.

While we waited for stuff to get going, I met superagent to the YA stars, Barry Goldblatt, and fellow finalists Brian Selznick, M. Sindy Felin, and Kathleen Duey, who were all fantastic. Then we took some press photos with the NBF photographer, and also with the teens who came up to the stage with their cameras.

The official MC, Danyel Smith, got stuck in traffic but the very capable Sherrie Young from the National Book Foundation took over those duties. She talked a little bit about the  Foundation and how the press conference would go, then she introduced Sherman and his book and he read an excerpt. Next came Kathleen, then Sindy, me, and Brian. Brian’s reading included a PowerPoint presentation because so much of the story of Hugo Cabret is told in pictures. It was great. For my part, I read the section where Deanna remembers her first encounter with Tommy in the bathroom, and the kids made a terrific audience. First of all, they cheered like crazy when I was introduced – seriously, I felt like a rock star. Then when I read and got to the line where Tommy says that Deanna’s makeup “makes [her] look trashy,” they all went, “oooooooooh” like “oh no he didn’t!” I loved it. And when Brian was introduced, one girl who was obviously his #1 fan actually stood up and screamed and clapped. That was beautiful.

After the readings, kids who had questions came down to the microphones and said their names and what school they were from. More cheering ensued. Like, if a kid said, “P.S. 140″ everyone from P.S. 140 went nuts. I got the first question, which I think was about what inspired the story. The kids did a great job with their questions for everyone and I just kept thinking how I would have loved to meet an author when I was that age. I got a few more questions and I wish I could remember them all but it was a blur and soon we had to go up to Teen Central to sign books. That was also a blur, because my table was mobbed and we tried to be organized, but it’s possible that some of the less assertive kids had to wait longer than they should have. I’m sorry!

This was all the best best best part of the week. Interacting with so many girls AND boys who read my book, and having them tell me how much they liked it and want to take my picture and everything was, in a word, awesome. Before I knew it, it was all over and the only evidence it had ever happened were a quintet of hot, tired authors and a lot of cookie crumbs ground into the carpet.

Sherman and I and our crew went out to lunch to recover and fill up before the next event: the company toast at the Little, Brown/Hachette Book Group offices. We had maybe 45 minutes or so to rest and change and walk over (by this time, Sherman’s lovely wife, Diane, was with us), where a green room awaited (or as T.S. called it, “the sandwich room”) and we met Joshua Ferris, finalist in the fiction category for And Then We Came to the End. This is also where I finally got to see my agent, Michael, after far too long. 21 months, to be exact, since my last trip here! We all headed out to the main area where they had all the HBG finalists’ books set up with cookies and champagne and flowers.

David Young, CEO of HBG USA, welcomed everyone and said some lovely words, then Megan Tingley introduced me with an embarrassing story she’d somehow gotten out of me Monday about me and a Bible and a pair of scissors. So I was the first of the finalists to say a few remarks to my publisher, and I kept it pretty simple and off the cuff about what a great experience I have with Little, Brown and my editor and all the wonderful people involved with the making of a book. Then I heard Josh, Christopher Hitchens, and Sherman be super eloquent (and in two cases, thank their agents!) and I wished I could have a do-over.

Me with my publicist, Ames:

We toasted and mingled, but soon left for the New School for the medal reception and ceremony and reading. So, the reception and medal ceremony part of it was a closed event for the authors and their people, New School alum and faculty, and the National Book Foundation people. Caterers circulated with little appies and wine and sparkling water. Here, I got to meet live in person for the first time several of the Longstockings: Jenny Han, Siobhan Vivian, Daphne Grab, and Lisa Greenwald. I also met Leslie Margolis, and saw friend Coe Booth, and if I’ve forgotten anyone I’m sorry! I’m just glad they were there, because later when I got my medal they cheered really loud and it made me feel, once again, like a rock star.

All of the medals and certificates were laid out on a table. The citation for Story of a Girl was so, so beautifully written. I later found out that Patricia McCormick—judge, past finalist, and author of SOLD—wrote it. During the reception, I talked to fiction finalist Mischa Berlinsnki, nonfiction finalist (and winner, we would find out 24 hours later!) Tim Weiner, and Christopher Hitchens who was really very nice and said we should exchange signed books (It’s on the way, Hitch! Can I call you Hitch? Probably not…). I also got to visit more with Sindy, Kathleen, and Brian. Again, kid lit people are the best people in the world.

Also on the table were some verrrrry promising gift bags from Levenger. Sherman and I found out we are both Levenger junkies and rattled off the various Levenger products we own. We had both succumbed to the 3×5 card system products and I asked him if he used them. “No.” “Me neither.” But that’s not the point, because the cards are still awesome and it feels good to have them and the pretty box they come in. (I do use the Circa planner, with a red leather cover!) When it came time for the presentation of the medals, we found out that the CEO of Levenger (who is on the NBA board) would personally hand us the Levenger bags! Sherman and I audibly gasped at this news.

Me and Sherman with the CEO of Levenger. (The bags had large Circa pads in black leather folios, plus a pocket-sized card folio.)

After we got our medals, we insisted Jennifer wear them for a bit. I was (and am) so proud of her success and the amazing honor and affirmation of having two books shortlisted for this big award.

Shenanigans, etc., then it was time for the reading! This was a public, ticketed event. The finalists all sat in the front row in the order of reading. I was first. First. So I sat between MC Bret Anthony Johnston and poetry finalist Ellen Bryant Voigt. My nerves didn’t kick in until Bret was introduced and I realized, “I’m next.” Butterflies. He introduced the first group of readers and up I went. I read the second half of Chapter 12, where Deanna first starts to feel a little bit of hope about her family, the one that ends with her head in her mother’s lap. I had practiced. I made sure to take my time. And I didn’t stumble on any words. And I didn’t start crying! Yay! And I felt loved by the applause and cheers from friends in the audience, and Bret gave me a big thumbs up as I walked off and then I could relax and enjoy the rest of the night.

Everything went along normally until the Robert Hass/Christopher Hitchens smackdown and subsequent commentary by Sherman, covered well by another blogger. And actually, that’s just what Hitchens does and I have to admit that though I found the booing and hissing entirely out of order and in terrible taste, I kind of enjoyed the overall spectacle and it definitely made the night memorable and gives me a story to tell. Then back to the hotel where I ordered up a big old sandwich and pile of fries and hit the hay.

Gordon arrived the next morning on the red-eye! We decided to go out for breakfast before trying to catch up on sleep. Found a corner cafe a few blocks from the hotel where he had a bialy with lox and I had challah French toast. If you live in a place like Utah, it is imperative to get real NY food that you can’t get anywhere else! For real. I don’t understand how people travel to NY and then go to Friday’s or McD’s. Anyway. Made a stop at Duane Read for some Sudafed and Claritin because I had a weird sinus headache I’m pretty sure was brought on by the GIANT vase of lilies that was two feet from me during the whole New School reading. Then we lounged around the hotel and slept a bit before heading out again in the late afternoon for an invigorating walk and a stop in a pizza joint. He had a calzone, I had half a stromboli. Rapturously good.

Back to the hotel for showering and dressing in our finery. Gordon looked smashing in his tux. He did have to watch several YouTube videos on how to tie a bow tie before getting it perfect. Thank you, internet! Finally, the moment had arrived. We met our folks in the lobby and the Escalade whisked us off to the Marriott Marquis Times Square where the awards were held.

I was the first finalist to walk the red carpet. Yes, there was a red carpet. It was short and inside the hotel, but I felt like a star for a couple minutes while a number of press took my picture and asked me questions like, “What color is your dress? Is that maroon?” and “How do you spell your name?” and stuff like that. I have no idea where these photos ended up, if anywhere.

I enjoyed the cocktail hour for the first half hour before it got too crowded, then you could barely move and worming my way through a crowd to make small talk with strangers is not the ideal social situation for me. I was relieved to see Michael when he got there, looking fabulous in his tux.

It is hard to describe the importance of Michael’s presence for all of this, especially given the situation that Sherman and I were both finalists from the same house with the same editor. Everyone else with our group had two shots. Michael was really the only one there who was all for me, you know? Gordon, too, obviously, but Michael understands better the process and roller coaster I’ve been on since selling my book and in a lot of ways it was like he was up for the award, too. Sherman’s agent and wife were there, as well, and I’m sure they felt the same way. (I’m waiting for a non-blurry picture of Michael and me to add to this post.)

I did see Jonathan Franzen from about 20 feet away during the cocktail hour, but it was too crowded at that point unless I’d literally shouted his name. Sigh. I did meet Walter Mosley, and saw Toni Morrison from afar. I’m sure I met and talked to others, as well, but by then I was getting pretty nervous so who knows.

We filed into the ballroom. The decor: lovely and candlelit. The centerpiece of each table: a display of all the finalists’ books. Appetizers were on the table. However, we waited forever to actually eat them because a Voice kept telling people to take their seats but writers are very disobedient and it was another half an hour and like 7 more Voice requests before everyone finally sat down. Our table was pretty close to the front and the only sad thing was that Michael was seated as far away from me as possible. Like, I was at 6 o’clock and he was at midnight. Other people at our table included a combo of LBYR and HBG folks: Megan Tingley, David Young, Melanie Chang, April Hattori, and Andrew Smith.

The table, and Sherman’s agent Nancy Stauffer:

The finalists’ books and pictures were projected on large screens around the room. The screens don’t photograph well, but you get the idea:

The appetizer was a smoked salmon-wrapped potato something or other with paddlefish caviar atop. Pretty yummy. Fran Lebowitz got things going, then Michael Cunningham gave a special award to Joan Didion. Ira Glass gave a special award to Terry Gross. (Who was a lot more lively and fun in her speech than I thought she’d be…I mean, I enjoy Fresh Air, but she usually sounds very subdued.) Dinner was served: lamb, polenta, green beans. Not bad. Dessert, I think, came next. Or it might have come later; I don’t remember. What I do remember is that it was espresso brulee, rum raisin ice cream, and something called a “cinnamon financier.” Jokes ensued. We spent eons trying to figure out what the cinnamon financier was and finally ascertained that it was two teeny tiny pieces of soft cinnamon toast on top of the creme brulee.

I took this opportunity to go to the bathroom. On the way back (or the way there, I don’t remember) I heard my name and saw Justine Larbalestier. I went over to get and give a hug. She introduced me to her husband, judge Scott Westerfeld. A little awkwardness (on my part) ensued. (See here.) I sat back down. Plates were cleared.

It was time.

Fran introduced Elizabeth Partridge, chair of the young people’s judges, who would be giving the young people’s lit award. Nerves nerves nerves. I got my speech ready just in case. Michael turned around and gave me an encouraging wink. Elizabeth said some stuff and then named all of the finalists’ and their books, including Story of a Girl by…Sara Zane. Sigh. I know it was an honest mistake of nerves and low light. Still, it deflated the moment quite a bit and also was a dead giveaway that the winner would not be me. I was pretty certain that if she was about to say my name again, that would not have happened.

Sherman! Our table erupted. Sherman gave an awesome, heartfelt, articulate speech. Gordon went to the bathroom, and Hachette CEO David Young came over and took G.’s seat, gave me a hug and a kiss, and said some consoling words that, though I couldn’t acknowledge them at the time for fear of crying, I really, really appreciated. He kept his arm around me in a very paternal way until G. came back. In retrospect, though I said and felt all along that I would be very happy if Sherman won (and I am), what I didn’t think about was how it would feel to be at the same table with the winner and have everyone celebrating and no one really commiserating except my husband and the guy sitting miles away at the opposite side of the table. It required a lot more game face than I otherwise would have had to muster. I know it wasn’t easy for Sherman, either, to thoroughly enjoy the win knowing I was sitting there non-winning. I wonder how Venus and Serena Williams deal with it! After everything was over and we were regrouping, he gave me a big hug and very kind, non-patronizing words.

Kindness is the thing I experienced so much of that night. I wonder if it was like that for the finalists in other categories, or if the young people’s lit folks are unusually thoughtful and compassionate. Probably the latter. 

Judge Patricia McCormick found me and talked to me first; later, Pete Hautman, Scott W., and James Howe surrounded me in a very kind and sincere way and told me great things about me and my book, and gave much encouragement. They were so, so wonderful. My editor, Jennifer, also gave me a heartfelt talk about how proud she was and what our collaboration meant to her. Andrew from LBYR, everyone, also great. Finally I had a moment of mutual comfort with Michael, too. I also found Brian Selznick for a hug and found myself saying to him, “That was harder than I thought it would be.”* And said hi to David Levithan, who was there as well. A little bit of conversation with Sindy Felin. I couldn’t find Kathleen Duey anywhere. As the crowd thinned out, I thanked Harold Augenbraum, executive director of the National Book Foundation and we gossiped about the reading a little bit. I saw Walter Kirn and finally got to say hi. Some ladies who were volunteering with the NBF found and congratulated me and told me how much they loved my book (and my blog! hi ladies!).

(*Because really, if you’re a finalist, that’s a giant honor. So I didn’t expect the variety of emotions that come with not winning. It’s not like you expect to win. But hell, you go in with as good a chance as any, really, and you have to mentally prepare to win so that if it happens and you go up to the podium in front of 650 people and the media you sound smart, articulate, graceful, and worthy. So you walk through that scenario a lot in your mind to avoid a deer-in-headlights situation. Some part of your consciousness is completely ready to win even if you don’t truly expect it. It’s just weird, and not like anything I’ve ever experienced in all my 37 years.)

Like I said in my short version post, I felt a lot of love. A lot of validation. I’m still kind of ridiculously insecure so much of the time. It’s a lot to have happen with one’s first book, and I don’t know if I’m yet totally comfortable in my writerly skin, totally owning it. The NBA stuff definitely helps, of course!, but I’ve still got a lot of books ahead of me that I want people to like and love. I’m still the new kid on the block, though this whole experience was a huge welcome to a possible future.

We decided to crash the party Little, Brown was having for Josh Ferris at a meatpacking district lounge. We got there and I said to Sherman, “I’m quite sure this is the hippest place I’ve ever been.” He said, “Me, too, which is why we’re sitting in the corner.” We all basically sat in the corner and drank water. Livin’ large! Talked to and congratulated Josh again on his nomination (Denis Johnson won in his category). Gordon and I shared a cab with Sherman’s agent and headed back to the hotel.

I discovered in the morning that I’d lost my cell phone. (The cab driver found it and brought it to me that night!) That was kind of the thing that finally allowed me to cry a little bit. It’s a lot of anticipation for a month and then it’s exhausting and it’s over, and there is that letdown that has little to do with winning or not winning. We went out for bagels and coffee and a walk and I said goodbye to G. and he headed off to JFK. I did a phone interview that had already been set up – that will be posted online in a couple of weeks.

Then I stayed up late working on a talk I gave to NYPL YA librarians on Friday. In the end, that’s what it’s about…connecting with readers and the people responsible for helping readers find a book that will mean something to them. After the whole teen press conference experience, I’m much closer to understanding what an important and perhaps even heroic thing it really is.

I took my medal with me to the talk and wore it for a few seconds at the library podium, just because. After leaving, I realized I left it on the podium! I picked it up later that afternoon from Jack Martin of NYPL YA Services, who made jokes about wearing it around the office. I loved that idea, and I totally think he should have. And that seems like a good place to end this part of the story. Maybe some day, if I am very lucky, there will be a sequel.

Related Links:

PW report from the Teen Press Conference

Minute-by-minute blogging of the event by Edward Champion, includes short audio interview with me right before the ceremony. (podcast #8)

Video blog at the Publishing Spot (also features Kathleen Duey)