THE POSTSCRIPT, Carrie Classon
I am going to New York.
I have not been to New York since before the pandemic. I bought a half-price ticket to see a show on Broadway before catching my flight home. I was very glad I went, since it was such a long time before I could see another play.
But now I am going back because the publisher of my book is having an open house for the authors with books coming out in 2025 and 2026, and I think that sounds like a lot of fun. They are serving snacks and beverages, and all the editors will be there. I’ve Googled where their office is, and it appears to be right in the center of things, and — if I’m going to New York — that’s where I want to be.
I think it will be great fun to meet these other authors and meet all the editors who make the books possible. The only thing that truly worries me is what to wear.
Maybe you think I’m kidding. I’m not.
Knowing what I will wear is a great comfort to me. Once I know what I will wear, I can picture myself in a place, and this is hugely reassuring. If I can’t imagine myself, I start to get anxious. You might think I’d be more worried about what I will say to all these important writers and editors, but somehow, this does not feel like nearly as big a problem.
“What is your book about?” would be appropriate to say to anyone who’s written a book. “When did it come out?” sounds like a great follow-up. I could ask how many books they had written and if they’re working on anything else and, if so, what that was about. Before you know it, the party is breaking up, and I’ve only talked to one person.
If I’m talking to an editor, I’d ask, “How many books do you work on at a time?” I’d like to know what they did before they started this job, and what their favorite part of the job is. Again, I can easily see how the evening would pass before I know it — what with eating and drinking all the promised snacks and beverages.
No, the talking part does not feel like a problem. It’s getting dressed that is hard.
I think this is because going to New York, for many of us who grew up in the Midwest, seems like a very big deal. New York does not seem quite real. It seems like the sort of place where a person would need to get things right.
This is where my anxiety kicks in. What does “getting things right” look like?
I dig through my closet. I dig through my drawers. I try things on. I discard things. I start to feel emotional, wondering if I am a person who belongs in New York at all — a person who is incapable of dressing herself.
Until I remember that no one — absolutely no one — is expecting me to get anything right. Anyone who has read my writing will know that sophistication is not my brand. Instead, I try to imagine how I would dress if I simply wore the kind of thing I write.
Instead of wearing black, I pull out a pink blazer. It is a little loud and very cheerful and not particularly sophisticated. If it says anything at all, it says that I like bright colors and warm feelings, and I am not afraid to show it.
I’m wearing the jacket. And I feel better now.
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