When I set out to learn about my mother's bridge club, the Jewish octogenarians behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, their gen, and the ragged path that led me back to my mother.It’s 10:20, do you know where your Golden Globe is? People knock the Globes and award shows in general. They’re too long, they’re self-satisfied, rigged, the monologues are terrible, etc. Here’s what I have to say: SO WHAT? People ask me why I watch them and the answer is simple: because I want to win one. Because I want to thank the Foreign Press Corps and my fellow nominees. I want to be at one of the back tables and have to walk the entire length of the room when they call my name. When I recite one of the million acceptance speeches I’ve written in my head over the years.
Who do you have to thank?
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Betsy Lerner 
You because I met long time friends and beta readers Indy Clause & Bobbi French here not to mention a host of writing friends. And of course my agent, Hilary McMahon.
Sure, Damhnait, steal my line, which was going to be “you all” or “y’all” given my origins.
Get up earlier if you want to be first.
You do have the advantage there!
Details…
I watched all of ten minutes, and was so turned off, I went to bed.
Who to thank? Anyone who’s ever offered a snippet of their time from the inside of publishing (hello The Forest for the Trees – but, that’s more than a snippet) readers,(!) writers, (!) bookstores, libraries, book clubs, family, friends, . . .
That’s starting to sound like an acceptance speech for something already.
The Lambda Literary Foundation. I was sitting in the back when my book was announced as the winner of the children’s/young adult category. I loved the long walk to the stage. I loved that I didn’t fall down on the way there. I loved giving my acceptance speech and that the audience laughed in just the right places. I loved meeting Betty DeGeneres and the fact that she’d written a great blurb for the cover. I loved that I beat Harvey Fierstein. I love Harvey Fierstein, but I loved beating him even more. I loved that my agent was there. She had taken me on for another book that didn’t sell She didn’t try to sell the Lambda book, She said she’d only read five pages and that sending it out would be a problem, so I sold it myself. I loved that all of a sudden I’d become valuable and that I could leave her behind, write more books, and find out what being an equal partner in an author/agent relationship feels like. When I need to go to a happy place in my mind, I return to Los Angeles and relive that night. Funny how sometimes life unfolds in your favor. .
I just checked back to read additional posts. I reread mine and realized that it sounded extremely self aggrandizing–especially the agent part. At that point in my career, I was lucky to have an agent at all–let alone an A-list one who worked for months to edit and attempt to sell my first book. She was a big city, very successful agent with high-profile clients. I was a newbie who needed a lot of hand holding. She was kind and patient. When she wasn’t crazy about my second book, my feelings were hurt. Then when it won the award, my ego soared and I thought I was more special than I am. I’m sure she was thrilled to see me go. I would have been. . . .
Everyone. I have to thank everyone.
I should get started. This could take a while.
Art Vomit. He’s someone few have heard of, but he made a big impression.
I won a National Thespian Award for best theatrical makeup in high school. I walked the entire length of the cafeteria, gym and auditorium were being used for something else. My award was first given. They handed me my trophy and I didn’t have a clue what day. I think I thanked the drama teacher, don’t remember her name, because she taught me how to build the perfect witch nose out of spirit gum for the Oz witch.
My stage fright is such that winning an award seems like doom to me. I’m much more comfortable in the gracious loser category, which is surely all for the best, given my track record.
Gracious you are; a loser you are not.