This book is so close to my heart that I’m tempted to individually thank everyone I’ve ever known. But that’s not realistic. So, a general thank-you to everyone I’ve ever known, and some more specific gratitude to:
Kathy Valentino, who works with the Joan Dancy & PALS Foundation in New Jersey, which is dedicated to improving the lives of ALS patients and their families. Kathy’s incredibly thoughtful and specific read helped make the book truer and better. I’m also grateful to everyone who was at Kathy’s ALS support group the night I visited; those with ALS, their families, and their caregivers were all gracious, vulnerable, funny, and inspiring. ALS is a brutal disease for which there’s still no cure, and if you’d like to learn more or donate, please visit Joan Dancy & PALS (joandancyandpals.org) or the ALS Association (alsa.org).
The late Susan Spencer-Wendel, whose huge-hearted memoir, Until I Say Good-Bye, was helpful and beautiful and hilarious, and also wrecked me.
Nancy Siscoe, my brilliant editor, who is directly responsible for this book existing, as she generously rejected it in its previous, very different form (definitely didn’t seem generous at the time) and helped me find a better way to tell that story. Also, thanks to Marisa DiNovis, Ray Shappell (for the beautiful, eye-catching cover), Artie Bennett, Barbara Marcus, and the entire Random House family.
Superb agent Mollie Glick and everyone else at CAA, including Julie Flanagan and Dana Spector.
My insightful, honest, and encouraging first readers: Katie Schorr, Zack Wagman, Ray Muñoz, Mariel Hull, Dustin Rubin, Kathryn Holmes, Greg Andree, Jillian Tucker, Leah Pearlman, Sarvenaz Tash, Leah Henoch, and Natasha Razi. Added thanks to Kathryn and Greg for being fantastic writing buddies (one in person, one online) and for talking with me about this book. A lot.
All my other author peeps. You know who you are.
The librarians, booksellers, teachers, festival organizers, bloggers, and READERS who make the YA world such a warm and wonderful place to be. Extra-special shout-out to the fearless, delightful students who did improv during one of my school visits, further inspiring this book.
French Woods, where I first experienced the magic of improv theater games.
Mike O’Keefe and Pete Capella, who welcomed me into ImprovJam!—a short-form improv comedy group that performed at the now-defunct Internet Café in Red Bank, New Jersey—when I was a senior in high school and were, in effect, my Mr. Martinezes. Much love also to Andy, Carl, Cate, Dimitry, Lauren, Rich, Kevyn, Lisa, Keith, Sadecki, Bobby, Alice, Andrew, Bart, Gary, Francis, Darren, and anyone else whose name I accidentally left out.
The cast of The NYC, the long-form improv teen drama that I started with Pete Capella in a gross dive bar basement in 2005. Hey, Samara, Alan, Dave, Jenny, Ray, Krystal, Phil, Ali, Andy, and Katie! That was fun.
The Rubins, Schorrs, Smiths, and Hulls, all of whom I feel very lucky to call family.
Minna Rubin, whose hilarity and heart and brusqueness I tried to memorialize in Grandma Mitzie. Miss you, Grandma.
Sly and Roger Rubin, the funniest little dudes around.
Jeff and Halice Rubin, my wonderful parents. In 2001, my dad was diagnosed with ALS. It’s been a long, up-and-down journey for him since then, but he was ultimately diagnosed with a subset of ALS called PLS (primary lateral sclerosis), which is slower-progressing. Russ and Dana’s story is not the story of my parents, but it’s still a vulnerable thing to have your son write a book even sort of inspired by something you went through, so I’m thankful in advance for that. And I’m also appreciative that they gamely agreed to be interviewed about their memories of when my dad was first diagnosed. Love you, Mom and Dad.
And Katie Schorr, my favorite person to laugh and cry with, who I was in a pretend relationship with in an improv show before we ever started our real relationship in life. (A relationship we at first hid from the rest of the cast. Just like Monica and Chandler on Friends!) She makes all my books better, but especially this one, seeing as I was only able to write Winnie Friedman because of how well I know Katie Schorr. She is funny, wise, fearless, and supportive, and I am very grateful.