Preface

 

Eleanor considered what words to say before the microphone.

It was one of those old-fashioned radio ones from the 1930’s, the kind with network or station call letters emblazoned on its sides. She approached and stood before it in her long formal gown of pink satin, clutching the slender gold trophy against her to the sound of thundering applause.

On either side of the long red carpet before her, there was a crowd of eager faces – the press, reporters, columnists – with questions eager for answers.

"How many marriages do you think you've saved?"

"Is it true that your latest work helped end a twenty-year feud?"

"What's the statistic on the number of relationships influenced by your writing?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she began her speech.

"Thank you for coming today," she said. "I'm honored ... I'm honored that you've chosen my column as one worthy of recognition as the greatest advice columns of twenty-first century journalism. One worthy of receiving a Pulitzer. Indeed, there are no words. No words to express how I feel about it. None at all. Although I need twenty-seven more to form a complete answer..."

For some reason, words were not coming to her properly at this point – a strange thing, since Eleanor worked with them, knew them intimately, inside out and front to back. The award in her arms felt light and flat. It was not a gilded Oscar-like trophy when she looked down, but a copy of her not-yet-released book Tell Me the Truth: Advice for Everyone on Every Relationship. A catch-all title which she had suspected the publisher would change before release.

She looked up with surprise. The people surrounding the red carpet lane seemed to be waiting for her to say something else. Since nothing came into her head, she simply smiled and held up the book in her hands. Loud and long cheers resounded.

And then she woke up.