I am not good at getting my books signed.

The good news is that we went with friends to hear Anne Lamott speak down in Mercer Island, and she was a joy to listen to.  After a morning spent on the phone dealing with the unpleasant -- talking to Alaska Air about how to cancel our Maui flights, talking to my old boss Bob the Attorney about helping my folks get the kind of paperwork you want to have done when you're going into major surgery -- I was ready for a kind voice.  Which she was (and funny, too).  As she spoke to the packed gymnasium, I think most people there felt very embraced (unless feminism bothered them).

The bad news is that -- well, I'm kind of a freak.  Since we sat almost in the back row, we were able to get out of the gym quickly and head straight for where Anne would be signing books.  Many people had brought or were buying books, so we thought a long line would form.  It did, but I was person number three in that line.  For about thirty seconds, I thought, SWEET!  We won't be in line forever!



Being in the front of the line, I had no time to think of anything to say.  When the two people in front of me disappeared, I panicked.  (Clearly, meeting favorite authors is my equivalent of meeting rock stars).  In a voice much higher than my own, I gushed that I was so glad to have finally heard her speak, and then I just sort of looked at her for a moment because I couldn't think of anything to say.  Without shaking her hand, I slid my book toward her on the table.  She graciously signed it.  After stumbling through a request for a picture, Justin and I posed for an awkward photo with the poor woman -- the first of many, I'm sure.

This is a picture of me thinking "Why am I crouching behind Anne Lamott?" behind Anne Lamott.  Also, with Justin Lawlis.



In an attempt to shake off the memory of crouching behind Anne Lamott, I will return to some of the thoughts she shared with all of us semi-crazy people.  I jotted down some notes in the back of my book, so they're jumbled and probably badly paraphrased, but fun anyway.

She started off by joking that "Anything I write is basically about how I'm doing on any given day," then read a passage from Bird by Bird about writing as a present to yourself, or to the person whose story you're telling, etc.  She said no one cares if you write -- when you bring out your pen, they'll ask, "Oh, so you've got a publisher now?" -- let yourself take notes anyway.  Then she talked about seven things that she knows for sure.

1.  It's okay not to know more than you know right now.  Perfectionism is the voice of the Oppressor. She shared again with us that quote from Bird by Bird, where she writes, "E.L. Doctorow said once said that 'Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.' You don't have to see where you're going, you don't have to see your destination or everything you will pass along the way. You just have to see two or three feet ahead of you. This is right up there with the best advice on writing, or life, I have ever heard."

2.  The most profound thing you can do on any given day is less. Make a list and cross three things off immediately.  Never help anyone move after the age of 40.  Tell them you'll bring sandwiches 'round for the younger folks around 1 pm.  With cookies.  Because you said you would is a terrible reason to do something.  Reserve the right to say those difficult words: "I've changed my mind."

If I have only 3 1/2 days left on this earth (1 day doesn't work for me, I like 3 1/2 days better), I want to spend most of that time outside.  And I want to have taken a nap.  And I hope I've overeaten at least three times in that three days.  There's not time to catch up later, especially with your kids and grandkids who will grow up with our without you.  All this meaningless activity argues a wasted life.

Many of us are afraid, because of how we were raised, that if we stop -- if we just stop -- a huge abyss will open up at our feet.  And it might.  It might open up right then and there.  But it's only there that people can meet you, that people can see you need help.  Jesus can meet you there.  And one of the things I love about Jesus is that he's really good with crazy people.  He doesn't just pull you up.  He sits beside you, leaning back against the wall.  He says, "Have you eaten?"

3.  Failures and mistakes and false starts are essential to the process. Take up something you'll be really bad at.  By the age of 12, we pretty much know what we're good at; it's been winnowed out of us, and we pretty much stick to that for the rest of our lives.  We become SO afraid of being bad at things, which is very limiting.

4.  You get to ask for a lot of help. When you're writing, for instance.  Have a pen.  If you don't know what something was like, ask.  Listen to the way people tell you about their experience.  By listening, you can understand what things are (or were) for other people, but you can also find out what things aren't for you.

You get to ask for a lot of help.

And, there's the four things Anne Lamott knows for sure.

Other than the fact that the people who come to her book signings are a little strange.