Emma Straub's Blog, page 11

So Sick I Don't Even Want Chocolate

Oh, dear readers, I've been sick for what feels like weeks, and I haven't eaten a proper meal in days. Saltines! My kingdom for saltines!

In the meantime, I've posted some new reviews in the Press section, I've mooned over Jason Schwartzman when he was filming at BookCourt, and I've read (and adored!) Tina Fey's Bossypants.Still not a bad week.

love

Emma

Longlist + Love in Bookstores

Today has been a delight thus far: my essay on love in bookstores went live on Slate, and my little Fly-Over State somehow made the longlist for the brand new Indie Booksellers Choice Award. I've never been on a list before, long or otherwise, and I am totally overjoyed. It is hilarious to me that Nicole Krauss is on the list, too, as if she needed indie booksellers to help move into the spotlight, but hey, the more the merrier. My votes will be going to Jessica Francis Kane, Emily Mandel, and myself, because if I don't vote for me, who will?

Yours, in listitude,

Emma

Albany is for Writers (and Spaceships)

Today, Mike and I spent the day in sunny downtown Albany. I was delighted to be invited to the Empire State Book Festival, and it was my first trip to the city. As it turns out, Albany's convention center is hidden in the basement of a giant egg that looks like the aliens have landed.

Me, spaceship.

Beside the egg.

Starting to feel woozy from all the aliens.

Some of the local options.

We missed Toad the Wet Sprocket by one day. ONE DAY.

My panel was amazing, and I'm not just saying that. From the left: Frank Delaney, Matt Denbenham, Mary Beth Hughes, Ben Greenman, moi. Our panel f'in ruled. I want someone with an Irish brogue to narrate my life for me.

My handsome husband.

On the drive home, we stopped in Saugerties for lunch. After we ate, I bought two new vintage dresses AND the above dark chocolate peanut butter cups. Mm hmm.

Cheers,

Emma

Fan Letter

I got a fan letter at the store today. And then Zack wrote a fan letter about my fan. A proper love-fest.

Love,

Emma

Don Hill's

Don Hill's wasn't the first bar I went to (that must have been the Dublin House, on 79th Street), but it was the first dance club I ever went to, and the only one where I ever actually felt comfortable. I don't dance anymore–not even at weddings–but I did when I was a teenager. It may have had something to do with all the alcohol I drank, or all the cigarettes I smoked, but I can say for certain that by the time I was twenty, I danced less. And I did most of that dancing at Don Hill's, on Thursday nights, when they played 80s music, and movie stars danced with us. I remember following Joaquin Phoenix around the tiny place when he was still going out with Liv Tyler. He wore a backpack, like the rest of us, and looked so completely miserable being there. Liv always loved to dance–they would play Aerosmith songs for her, and it was like Alicia Silverstone was about to come out any second and recreate those wonderful music videos. But she didn't. Ione Skye. Models up the wazoo. Billy Zane. God! Why was Billy Zane everywhere I went when I was seventeen? But he was. And Liev Shrieber. The only time I have ever broken the NYC-celebrity-cone-of-invisibility was with Liev Shrieber. I was probably eighteen or nineteen, leaving Don Hill's at 3am. He was waiting on line for the bathroom, in the narrow hallway, and I had to squeeze through, coming back form getting my coat downstairs. "Liev Shrieber!" I said, slapping him on the bicep. "I am SUCH a fan!" I must have sounded like a lost tourist, but I wasn't, I was in the safe zone, at Don Hill's, my favorite place. Of course I ran into him on the street the next three days in a row, and had to keep ducking across the street, mortified.

I drove past Don Hill's two days ago, and was amazed to find it still standing. It looked so small, just like what they say about childhood homes. Which isn't so different, actually.

RIP Don Hill.

love

Emma

In Which I Become a Fashion Model

There are certain milestones in one's life: first kiss, first love, first time a make-up artist draws in your eyebrow and you have to sit in a weird position on the floor of a bookstore for two hours with some super cool people while a photographer takes pictures.

The photoshoot was for Paper Magazine's May Issue. I won't spoil it by saying too much, but I will say this: I love Twitter. I snapped a few photos afterwards.

Thessaly, Sadie, Hamish, and Maud, my fellow models.

We were all very good and kept out phones away until we were finished.

And here's what I look like with eyebrows. Will someone come to my house and do this for me whenever I have to get out of my pajamas? I'll pay you in baked goods. Okay great.

Then I took a taxi to a lovely restaurant and had a celebratory lunch with my agent and new editor. A banner day. With eyebrows.

Tomorrow, I drive up to Albany for the Empire State Book Festival. If you happen to be there, please say hello. If it looks like I haven't washed my face, you may also compliment me on my eyebrows.

Ta ta for now,

Emma

Book Clubs Rule

So far I've met with two bookclubs to talk about OPWM, my own and my mother-in-law's, but I have two more on the schedule, and am hungry for more! If you're in a bookclub and you think it might be fun to have me bake you brownies and talk about my stories, please holler! I'm in NYC, but am traveling elsewhere for the book, so if you're in Boston, San Francisco, Los Angeles, or any of the other wonderful places I'm going, we could totally make it work. Just a thought.

Love,

Emma

Things I Want to Do This Second

I'm feeling under the weather at home today, but if I had my druthers, here's the list of things I would do right this second:

-Go see the Bill Cunningham documentary

-Make carrot cake whoopie pies

-Go buy all the gorgeous new spring dresses at Built by Wendy

-Take my grandmother's necklace to Erie Basin for possible repair

-Walk around Prospect Park

It looks like a gorgeous day out, so hopefully I'll get to cross one or two of those off my list this weekend.

love

Emma

I Love The Rumpus

And I'm sure you do too. 'Dear Sugar' alone would be an excellent reason to pledge one's affection, but, whew, they've just given me the kind of review that makes me want to look out for falling meteors.

"These quiet epiphanies in Straub's stories place her in the company of Beattie and Moore, and the voices she creates are contemporary. When I finished reading this exquisite collection, I flipped back to the beginning of the book and stared at the table of contents. The book was suddenly heavier in my hands—suddenly filled with the weight of all these character's silent fantasies, side-thoughts and careful revelations.Other People We Married is a captivating first collection of short stories for this writer; I look forward to her future work."

Click here to read the whole thing.

Yours, swooning,

Emma

Tumblr

Are you on Tumblr? I am. And I need friends. If you're on Tumblr, please find me here, and be my friend.

So far I've posted pictures of Lucille Ball, Diane Keaton, and a video of my cat purring. It's going gangbusters.

love,

Emma