That One Time I Got Emotional
DISCLAIMER: If you haven’t yet read my post, “How I Got My Agent,” feel free to do so, so this post makes sense in terms of my lofty writer goals. Otherwise this just sounds like I’m an asshole.
This past weekend I went to my first writers conference. It was in Syracuse and I wore a badge that claimed I was a YA writer. I felt like hot shit.
Usually I’m at home in my writing room or snuggling in my reading chair, so being around other writers who only want to talk about books and writing was utterly delightful. Even though I was nervous to attend this conference because I was by myself, I soon realized it was nothing like middle school. These people wanted to sit next to me and hang out. They wanted to geek over favorite books. They talked my language. These are my people.
But I had a rather personal experience at this conference I wasn’t expecting, and even now, a week later, I still can’t think about it (or write about it) without crying. God help me.
I grew up in the Syracuse area. Chittenango, specifically, where “L. Frank Baum was born near here.” (L. Frank Baum wrote The Wizard of Oz.) But this isn’t about Mr. Baum or Oz. It’s about a Syracuse author named Bruce Coville. He’s written approximately one billion children’s books. (Look it up.) But what made him special to me (and my friends in school) was the fact that he was so awesome and local. He was a famous guy practically right next door!
My mother taught at a local school and Bruce Coville visited. I was probably 7-ish years old. My mother brought home this book for me:
It’s SARAH’S Unicorn. Naturally, I assumed Mr. Coville wrote it for me. I can usually be found in the woods chilling with a unicorn, so the resemblance was quite shocking.
This little picture book (with the most gorgeous illustrations ever by Katherine Coville) absolutely delighted me. Mr. Coville’s Sarah believed in the magic of unicorns and it changed her life. Little Sarah Downs believed in the magic of this book and I’d like to think it changed her life.
And it wasn’t just a book about Sarah’s unicorn that blew my mind; Mr. Coville actually signed it for me. He didn’t even know me and he wrote a special message.
It’s 2019 and I can close my eyes and tell you verbatim what his message says:
My copy of Sarah’s Unicorn is torn, tattered, and pieced together with tape and glue, but it’s in my hands and it’s still as magical as it was when I first received it.
Flash forward to 2019. I wrote the book of my heart from an idea I had as a teenager. I devour Young Adult books even at age 37. I encourage my 3 little children to read as much as they can so they, too, can disappear into a magical place between the pages of someone’s imagination. As Stephen King says in his memoir On Writing, “Books are a uniquely portable magic.” And isn’t it so true?
So I’m a writer. I have an agent for this book of my heart. My whole heart is the magic of storytelling and it’s personal to me. I want to share that magic with readers.
I go to this writers conference and giggle over the “famous” people (agents, editors, authors) who are giving presentations. I feel electric inside because I love the whole publishing world so much. (For God’s sake, I nearly cry over a presentation on marketing because I keep imagining my own book as something “marketable”!) And I’m extra excited because Bruce Coville is a special guest at the conference.
Mr. Coville arrives and I see him and start fangirling like a Beatles fan.
And then I sit in my chair and can’t move. Maybe I’ll just fangirl from afar. That’s safer. That’s easier. And it’s way less embarrassing.
One of my new writer friends asks me to come with her into the hall. I follow. Bruce Coville and the other lovely authors are signing books in the hall. I buy Bruce Coville’s newer book, CURSED, and think my kids will love it. I’ll have him sign it for them. This book will be for them and they’ll have their names in it and it’ll be just as magical as when Mom had him write to me.
I stand in line to meet him.
And I tell my aunt (who’s at the conference as a writer) the story of Sarah’s Unicorn and how Mom had Bruce Coville sign it for me. I start to tell her what he wrote in it — that beautiful thought about the magic in this old world. But I can’t repeat it because suddenly I can’t breathe without tears flooding my eyes. I think about my kids reading my old, tattered copy of Sarah’s Unicorn and how it’s taped together now. I think about the book I wrote that is my whole heart and the long, arduous journey of finding my wonderful agent to represent it and make my publishing dream come true. I think about the very idea that I have become like Mr. Coville. I’m a writer. I’m an author. And perhaps someday my book will be a magic portal for its readers.
This is when I tell myself to calm the F down. Sarah, darling, you are not Bruce Coville. Sorry. No way. Try harder.
But thinking about little 7-year-old Sarah Downs getting a book from Bruce Coville and then meeting him 30 years later is just too much.
I have 3 kids and never cried a single tear when they were born. And suddenly I’m crying while standing in line to meet an author who, frankly, probably assumes I’m Creep of the Year who needs to get a damn hold of herself. And he’s so right.
My aunt’s with me and, God bless her, she says, “Write down what you want to say to him and I’ll read it to him.”
So I do. I type what he wrote in my copy of Sarah’s Unicorn because I know it by heart, of course. I hand my phone to my aunt.
I step up to Bruce Coville.
He has kind eyes and a smiling face, and I pull it together to speak a few normal words to him. He asks me for whom he should sign the book.
I don’t say Grady or Gretta or Perry (my 3 kids at home). I say, “To Sarah. It’s for me.”
He writes, “To Sarah.”
I find the courage to carry on: “I have a book you signed for me from 30 years ago.”
Aaaaand then I basically burst into tears. (I NEVER CRY, I SWEAR.) Valiant effort, Sarah.
Luckily, my aunt steps in. She tells Mr. Coville about how Mom gave it to me when I was little, and she shows him the quote I still remember: “Like this, Sarah, may you find all the love and magic this old world has to offer.”
“Ah,” he says. “I’ll bet the book was Sarah’s Unicorn.”
“Yes!”
“Sarah is an author, too,” my aunt tells him. “She even has an agent now.”
“So the magic has already started for you,” he says to me.
And all I can do is nod, because he’s right. He knows what it’s like to write a book. (He knows what it’s like to write a billion!) But he gets it. I get it. We get it because me and Bruce Coville, we’re writers.
When he finishes writing to me, he asks if we should hug. Of course we should.
Mr. Coville is an excellent sport when it comes to sobbing, creepy old fans.
I give the guy a break and get back to the conference because, like, perhaps this is flattering, but it’s also turning into a Stage Five Clinger situation. Move along, Sarah.
The rest of the conference is awesome. I am so friggen pumped to start working on my new WIP and await edits from my agent. I’m ready to jump in my car for the 3-hour ride home and listen the shit out of a Young Adult audiobook. I am electrified with inspiration.
The conference is over and I have a bunch of new friends, new books, and new ideas. I’m ready for the long drive home.
I see Mr. Coville getting into his car. He’s alone and shuffling his things around. I could TOTALLY go apologize for all the crying I just did, but I don’t because don’t be that girl, Sarah.
Instead I pull out the new Bruce Coville book I had him sign. I read it and, surprise, start crying again because apparently I have emotions now after a pretty full life of holding them in:
You are so right, Mr. Coville.
Thanks.
-5 Comments-
Sarah I am so proud of you! What you don’t know is that I was telling all my friends about YOU! And I bet you were the high-light of Bruce Carville’s day and that yours was the first story he told when he got home. Love you Sarah!
The tears are welling up as I read your post. I’m a school librarian and consider authors amazing magicians. I rarely have books signed anymore at library conferences because I’m so embarrassed when tears start flowing, even when I just see authors, especially ones like Bruce who hold a special place in my heart (as a librarian and as a mom whose two daughters were huge Coville fans). Best wishes on your writing journey!
Your blog made me cry. I am so proud to know you. May all your dreams continue to come true. Can’t wait to read your book ! 💗
This is such a wonderful story. I’m so glad you went to and enjoyed your first writers conference, met one of your lifelong heroes, and proved that you really do have a heart.
KIDDING. Who isn’t crying at this point?
This is so exciting!! Now go put those books in glass cases!
Bruce is the most approachable, honest author ever. And YOU are inspiring! You can say a billion?!!