My guest this week, Kathleen McCleary, is a journalist and author who also has worked as a bookseller. Booklist praises her third novel, Leaving Haven, which released yesterday, as “a deeply engaging story of two families navigating tricky emotional waters and making surprising discoveries along the way, a gentle reminder of the strength and flexibility of the family.” Kathleen has written articles for The New York Times, The Washington Post, Good Housekeeping, Ladies Home Journal, and USA Weekend, and was a regular columnist on HGTV.com. And as you’ll see from her post, she’s as fond of champagne as I am. – Meg
I sold my first novel when I was 47, on a day when I had such a bad head cold I couldn’t even breathe through my nose. I was working as a freelance journalist, in the midst of reporting an article (ironically) on “How to Avoid Germs in Public Bathrooms” for Health magazine, and in the throes of coaching my youngest daughter’s Odyssey of the Mind team.
I remember a lot about that week. I remember the frenzied trip to Bloomingdale’s to find an impressive outfit to wear to meet the various New York editors and publishers who were interested in my book. I remember that several of those well-dressed New York editors complimented me on my handbag—the one item I’d purchased at my favorite retailer, Target. I remember hoping no one noticed how much I smelled like menthol because I was sucking on so many cough drops to keep my cold symptoms at bay. I remember sitting at a café with my agent, hovering over a cup of tea, when her cell phone rang and one of the editors called with an offer to buy the book. I remember the next day, when I told my agent to accept the offer.
But what I remember most about that week is going to my daughter’s dress rehearsal for her Odyssey of the Mind competition after returning from New York. At that point I was so sick that all I wanted to do was sit propped up in bed with some Vicks’ Vapo-rub and a glass of orange juice. Instead, I had to go to the dress rehearsal, lugging cardboard scenery and a hot dog costume. When I arrived, my friend Steve pulled out a bottle of champagne.
“I’m sick,” I said. “I can’t drink champagne.”
He popped the cork. “Everyone,” he said, “should have a glass of champagne on the day they sell their first novel.”
And he poured me a glass of champagne and I drank it.
The champagne stands out for me because the whole experience seemed so unreal, and because even after I had done it, even after I had written an entire novel and found an agent and sold it, I still wasn’t quite ready to celebrate my achievement until Steve insisted. And I am eternally grateful he did.
My third novel comes out this week, and I’m now writing my fourth. And what I’ve learned over the course of publishing three novels is that there is nothing wrong with working hard, taking satisfaction in it, and pausing once in a while to celebrate my own successes, large or small.
I am a nice Mid-western girl. I grew up in the years before Title IX and never played competitive sports until I was well into my twenties. I am polite. I often defer to authority (or at least I used to, before I became middle-aged and cranky). I am modest. Self-promotion makes me queasy, and I’m uncomfortable being the center of attention. But I have two daughters. I see how hard they work, and I see how eager they are to please. I want to show them that there is nothing wrong with cheering for yourself when you’ve earned it.
That glass of champagne on the day I sold my first book taught me to never deny myself the chance to pause for a minute, hold that sweet feeling of accomplishment in my mind and heart and appreciate it, fully and completely. Even when the cardboard scenery is falling down and my nose is stuffed up and deadlines loom. Especially then. – Kathleen
