If you read yesterday’s post, you’ll alreay know that my favourite writer is Emma Donoghue (although Jeanette Winterson is also my favourite writer in a whole other way, so you should read her work too!) You’ll also know that I met her once in high school and it was wonderful and magical and super awkward.
The thing is I actually had the opportunity to meet her a second time, several years later. My partner at the time had contacted her in an effort to have a copy of her latest book signed for me. It was meant to be a birthday gift. Instead of agreeing to sign the book and send it back, she invited us both over for coffee so she could sign it in person. So. Fucking. Awesome. I got to chat with her about her writing and play peek-a-boo with her son and watch her daughter try to stuff oranges down her onesie.
Now, I’d like to say that growing older made me less shy and awkward, and more comfortable and confident and conversive. But it didn’t. Not a lot anyway. I was still so incredibly star-struck and nervous. But it didn’t matter. It was just such an amazing experience and I’m still so utterly grateful to Emma Donoghue for the opportunity. She’s a pretty cool lady. (And her kids are super cute, in case you’re wondering.)