I will forever be grateful to my agent, Sarah Bedingfield, for finding me in her inbox and seeing in my work what no one else had previously seen. Her passion allayed some of my fears that I was a crazy person on a solitary mission who had nothing of value to share. Loud and clear she said, “I see you. I get what you’re saying.” And then she promptly proceeded to sell my book. Sarah, it has been the joy of my life to share this process with you.
I am similarly grateful to Jennifer Weis of St. Martin’s Press, who promptly proceeded to buy my book. Your excitement and faith in this story have meant everything to me. It is humbling to have so many people working behind the scenes on my behalf to bring my words into the world. Thank you Sylvan Creekmore, Lisa Senz, Jennifer Enderlin, Sally Richardson, Tracey Guest, Brant Janeway, Erica Martirano, Jordan Hanley, and Olga Grlic. Thank you, also, to Francesca Best and the folks at TransWorld, who came on board so quickly and enthusiastically.
I am indebted to Pitch Wars—to Brenda Drake in particular, and the greater community in general (especially Nikki Roberti, Heather Cashman, Michael Mammay, Rachel Lynn Solomon, Rebecca Enzor, Kellye Garrett, and Kristen Lepionka). My mentor, Margarita Montimore, was the first person to pluck my work from the slush, and she consistently had more faith in me as a writer than I had for myself—thank you for pushing me to make my manuscript the best it could be. I didn’t fully understand what line revisions were before your mentorship, and now I know that’s where the magic happens: I’m a better writer because of you. I couldn’t have gotten through those crazy two months without my fellow mentees, Class of ’16 (too many to name)—I’ll always be rooting for every single one of you.
The writing community on Twitter has proven to be an amazing resource for information and encouragement. I have learned so much from so many writers—thank you all!
Thank you to beta reader and cheerleader extraordinaire Kim Chance: our writing journeys took different paths, but I’m so happy 2018 is a book celebration year for both of us.
I started writing novels while I was a part-time employee at Monroe Branch Library in Rochester, New York. It was inspiring to be around so many books—and so many lunatics. Thank you to my co-workers and friends who were such a part of my Rochester life, especially Mary Clare Scheg and Chris Price.
Thank you to Scott Keiner, an early champion of the earliest version of this story; you made me think I might be on to something.
Thank you to my guardian angel, Manya Nelson, who nursed me in spirit when I was ill, and made sure I had a computer to write on.
Thank you to Kathryn Markakis, who listened to me like no other doctor ever had, and kept me sane and well enough to keep pursuing my dreams.
Thank you to Eva Albertsson for answering my Swedish usage questions. If any mistakes remain in my Swedish, the fault is entirely mine.
Thank you to my dad, John Stage, who’s been game for every rough draft of almost everything I’ve ever written, starting when I was a teenager. It took me a long time to grasp all of your allusions to Stephen King, but I think I finally got it: make sure the readers keep turning the page! And also, thank you to my mum, Ruth Stage. My parents gave me a love of books, and the Smoky Mountains, and the Grand Canyon, and trees-mountains-sky, and the big world of ideas and wonder. It wasn’t always easy, but somehow you provided the right upbringing for a writer.
I couldn’t live without my bestest friends, Lisa Ricci and Paula D’Alessandris. We may have started with a common love of theater, but we evolved in so many other directions. I’m so grateful for the decades we’ve shared. You’ve helped make me who I am, and have been there for all of life’s victories and mishaps, for serious talks and goofy exploits.
And finally, thank you to my sister, Deborah Stage—the singularly most important person in my life. You have been part of my consciousness for as long as I’ve been conscious, sharing in the perils, silliness, and adventures of growing up, and growing older. You’ve encouraged me in all of my creative endeavors—and participated in quite a few of them—though we will overlook that this one slipped into the world without your fingerprints (“too scary”). There is no one I’d rather laugh with, or sit in silence with, or play a board game with, or gaze at the stars with. Though I’ve often felt lost in this world, with you I am always “home.”
While I’ve been writing and creating for many, many years, this book came together suddenly and unexpectedly, and has been a life-changing event. I am grateful beyond what I know how to express.