I have been planning this for weeks. Ever since I knew that Neil Gaiman was coming to Winnipeg, really. I was lamenting not having some excuse to meet him - the fact that I was going to write my Extended Essay for the IB on his work, and now am not - and stressing out about the fact that my twelfth-grade band concert was the same night … what was I going to do? I'm first chair clarinet, and I begin and end a song! It's not fair to give that responsibility to my second chair on the night of the concert.
So I planned. I would go straight to McNally Robinson after the rehearsal, and end up there at 4 or so. I would go in, listen to Neil read, get my book signed, and make it back in time for my part of the concert. I had it planned so that if I didn't make it, my second chair could take my part. She was okay with that.
Got to Polo Park at 4.45. Went towards McNally Robinson and realized there were a lot of people. Oh dear. So I got in line, very nervous. People had tickets, I realized. Oh dear again. I asked the woman in front of me. She said they weren't actual tickets, just to make sure you got in. But they weren't necessary, I said. No, she replied, she didn't think so. In fact, later on a lady came down the line, handing them out to anyone who didn't have them. I took one of course.
Doors opened at 5, got in maybe ten minutes later. Heard that either you could stand in the main area and listen, but be later in the signing line, or go where there was a video feed and be first in the signing line. I chose the second option, evidently, knowing I needed to be out of there by 7.10 to make it to my concert in time.
So I went. It's 5.30. I strike up conversation with the people I'm sitting/standing with. A family (two kids, very cute, very nice), and a husband and wife. We chat. Time passes. Neil finally comes on after an introduction, and says there will be a Q&A once he's done, and that the kids would get to sign first so they don't have to stay until midnight. Very good ideas, but I'm running out of time! He doesn't start reading until 6.24. I'm getting very, very nervous.
He ends at 6.50, and I'm quivering. I don't know what to do. I would just skip the concert, but I have a vital role, and my grandmother is going to be there, and she has recently lost her husband … I can't miss the concert. I have to be there.
The Q&A is quick, but I am barely listening. I am thinking too hard. What to do? What to do? Do I wait? I can't. I really can't. 7.05. They start getting the kids in line. Oh no. Oh no. 7.10. Dad texts me. I reply I can't get out. 7.14. He says he's waiting outside. I'm almost in tears. I didn't want it to go like this at all.
I borrow a pen, and write a quick note on the back of the paper that says I am in the first group of people to have their books signed.
Hello M. Gaiman.
I am terribly, terribly sorry I cannot meet you. I would have loved to have done so. [or something to that effect, I don't remember the second line very well] Please sign on p294 [the illustration of Bod sitting on the gravestone looking up at the beginning of the last chapter], to Emily Diehl. @Kaylotta"
I was hoping maybe he'd recognize my Twitter name since he's replied to me - long shot I know but it is there. He is a nice man after all. I write my name and address in pen on the inside of the book and I ask the wife of the couple I had been talking with if she could please ask him to sign it, and please explain, and then she could either mail the book to me or we could meet up (I had earlier gotten her Twitter name). She said that was fine, and took the book. Before I could burst into tears, feeling so discouraged and sad, I left the store.
I got in the car with Dad almost crying and explained what had gone on. He was very sorry and sympathetic. I said that if I had stayed it would have been at least eight before I got my book signed.
Then he said something that I had not thought of: I could go back after the concert. Oh.
We got to the concert in good time, giving me a chance to calm down, get my bow-tie and cummerbund on, put my clarinet together and even warm up.
The concert went very well. No complaints. My grandmother liked it quite a lot. She and Dad and I got back into the car, and we drove back to Polo Park. I explained to my grandmother along the way just who Neil Gaiman was, and what he'd written, and it turned out that she had seen Stardust.
Dad told me to let him know how long I would be, so that he could know whether to wait or whether to take my grandmother to my aunt's house. I got into the store and immediately went to the front-ish of the line. I didn't see the woman I had given my book to. I asked someone in line what number they were. They said two. That meant the ones had gone already and my book was likely no longer there. I told Dad that I would be quite a while.
Neil being the very nice person that I knew him to be, I didn't think that he would have balked at signing an extra book (there were only supposed to be two, and the woman had her two plus my one), but I was worried that the staff would have said no. I needed to find out whether the book had been left at McNally Robinson or whether it was with the woman, and, more importantly, whether or not Neil had signed it.
I went to the main desk, explained (as) briefly (as I could) what had happened, and asked if the book had come in. The man (the manager, perhaps? I shall call him that to avoid confusion) said he did not think so, and that I should ask at the little desk near the front of the line. I said okay, thank you so much, and then I went over and asked that staff member. He said that there had been something about a Graveyard Book, but that it was at the cash desk (the one I had just been at) and that he wasn't sure And was I Jan? No, I said, I was Emily. But thank you anyway. And back I went. The manager took account of this new information and said he would go and do some investigating, and that I should stay there.
I waited, and he came back and said he was very, very sorry but that nothing had been heard. I said alright, that meant it was not here, and I would buy a new book and get that one signed instead. I said I needed to ponder which one, that's all. He said that was fine. I looked at a Sandman volume for a while but I didn't really think so. What to buy? Neverwhere? Anansi Boys? American Gods? I didn't know. I didn't know any of those books well enough to want him to sign them and for it to mean something. Really, I wanted him to sign my Graveyard Book.
I needed to find out whether or not my book had been signed. It was then that I realized that I should have asked for the woman's cell phone number. I had her Twitter, but I was nowhere near a computer or Internet, and there was no guarantee she'd be online. I had no way of contacting her yet.
Then I had an idea. I went and asked the staff members who were helping Neil. Very discreetly. (well, I thought so. The woman I was speaking with shushed me gently, and I realized my voice had gotten louder than I intended. I dropped it, of course. I guess I was nervous.) I asked whether there had been any kerfuffle about someone having one book too many (that was exactly the word I had used) and whether or not that book had been signed. Evidently, I explained the situation briefly. She said she wasn't sure but she hadn't heard of any kerfuffle (she used it too, I was happy about that), and besides she didn't think Neil would say no, especially with a note. He was nice. A couple other staff members nearby chimed in with yes, there had been something like that very early on, and it had gone by no problem. So! To date, I think it did get signed. I hope it did! I operated on that assumption from then on, and I really hope I'm right.
[New information: he did indeed sign it, and I am eagerly counting the days until I get it back. I am very excited to read what he wrote.]
I go back to the desk and buy a copy of Coraline. Now I have two - I will leave one here for my sisters when I leave for university, and I will have my own. I asked whether or not I get a number or whether I am unnumbered. I am unnumbered, right at the end of the line. That’s alright. I know it'll get signed even if I'm the last, Neil being the nice man he is. I go and wander, and sit and read for a bit, but I am too emotional, too stressed, too bouncy. Too chaotic. Too much thought, I can't read. So I start thinking of Christmas presents. I'm in a bookstore, so it's worth a look. I have nothing for my littlest sister. I ask the woman at the kids' desk what sort of books she would like, after explaining what sort of books she read, and the woman showed me some shelves and recommended some, and talked about them a bit. I thanked her and started looking at the books, but then thought, well, why not Odd and the Frost Giants?
I stopped myself, and thought. My family is Christian, if very liberal. Would Norse gods fly? I thought probably. Mythology. Culture. Mom let us read Harry Potter and Tolkien and other similar magic- and faery-filled books no problem, lots and lots of that stuff. Nonetheless I asked my parents just to be sure and they both said it looked okay, so I bought it. Now I had two books. Would I be allowed to get them both signed? I hoped so. I really hoped so anyway, and if not, well, I'd get my Coraline signed. It meant more to me than to my sister in the end.
I checked the end of the line, asking what numbers they were. Threes. One of them said that they had gotten their threes when some people had to leave, so would I like one of their sixes? Sure, I said, that would be lovely, thank you very much. So now I was a six, not an unnumbered person.
I met up with my Dad and we chatted a bit, then we both got engaged in books. I started reading FlashForward, which was very interesting indeed, and Dad read a Steve Jobs book about good PowerPoint presentations, which was very interesting too - no, really.
I read until section six was called to the line, and I got in line. In line, I met some very good friends. Not friends I knew before, but friends I made. We talked about lots of crazy things, and lots of not-crazy things. I enjoyed myself. They were good people, I thought. If strange. But then, it seems that most, if not all, of Neil Gaiman's fans have a strange streak, as well as a good amount of smarts.
In line, the idea somehow came up (and I don't remember how anymore) that I ought to sing for Neil. I was terribly pleased with this idea (we were about at the 25% of the waiting in line - it was maybe 11.00?), if very nervous about it. I love to sing. It's what I will be going to university for. I can sing. I knew what I would sing. But should I do it? (Would I be able to? The part I wanted to sing was rather high, and although I am a soprano by nature, I had been sick not too long ago and was still waking up with a rather rough throat - also I would have been talking for two hours by the time I got to the front! The last thing I wanted to happen was for my voice to crack.)
I thought that I could ask if he would be alright with it. I thought he would, since again he is a very kind man, and doesn't like saying no to people, but I was still worried that he would say no (or the staff would), and I would be very hurt because I'd stuck my neck out that far. Or that I would be kicked out of the store! But I was very near the end of the line, so maybe my singing wouldn't be such a big deal to everyone else. I decided I would ask.
One of my new friends says she will record it on her phone, then send it to me. When we get almost to the front of the line, we double-check that her settings are right. The guy behind us says, "Are you actually going to do it?"
Do or die. "Yes. If he says I can, I will." Heart is starting to speed up.
"Well I'm totally filming it then, and I'll put it on YouTube."
"Okay, that's fine - there is footage of me singing on YouTube already." Aah! Me singing to Neil Gaiman! On YouTube!
Finally at the front. I give my books to the woman to be put in the line. My friend goes. My second friend goes. Neil says we can come closer, he's not dangerous. We laugh. I move over in front of the table and a bit to the right. I've put my big winter coat on the bench so I can stand properly and sing. I think I may have been moving up and down on the balls of my feet.
Standing there, so nervous, heart beating so quickly. Scared. Giggling at the comments he's making to my friend. Then it's my turn. He looks at me, smiles. "Hello."
This next bit, our conversation, is as close as I can remember. The film will maybe be better.
"Um, hi Neil, could I sing for you? Would you be creeped out if I sang for you?"
"No, I wouldn't be creeped out if you sang. Go ahead."
"I'd like to offer you a song sort-of on behalf of everyone in Winnipeg, though I can't really speak for everyone … "
"Well you can always try."
"I suppose there's no harm in that."
"Go ahead."
Deep breath. Start. Look him in the eyes, you're singing to him, Emily, don't look away. Don't do a performer and look over his head. You're speaking to him - more memorable if he knows that, maybe.
"Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade; they have their season, so do we … but please promise me that sometimes, you will think … "
At this point there is a cadenza, a jumpy bit of music that ends up very high. When I learned this song properly, in order to sing it in a competition, my teacher (and my singer-parents) told me that I had to have a reason to sing it. I had to know why. And I've always had trouble with that. It's Christine singing, to Raoul in her head - asking him to remember her even though they are apart. I thought of that as I was singing, and thought, well, I want him to remember this. Honestly, I think that was the best time I have ever sung that cadenza.
" ... Of us!"
I looked him in the eye the whole time. I think I closed my eyes twice out of performer's habit (which is a BAD habit, bad me) but I made myself open them. He held my gaze quite calmly. I think he knew I was nervous. As I sang and looked at him it ceased to be a real performance. It became just talking to him. I knew I would like him. I knew I could sit down and have tea with this man. I would love to sit down. I felt so comfortable. He was so nice! I felt at-home, like he was my friend, like I was just talking to him. I felt very happy.
I do not remember if there was applause when I finished. There may have been.
When I finished, I said, "… … … please do [remember us]."
He says, "Of course I will … come here … " He pushes his chair back a bit and raises an arm.
Oh my gosh. He wants to give me a hug. (I had wondered what hugging Neil Gaiman would be like. I thought a Neil-hug would be a nice hug. But never did I dream he would actually hug me.)
I step forward and give him a hug. He gives very good hugs. Strong and gentle - well, they're Dad-hugs. (After three kids, of course he can do Dad-hugs, that's no surprise at all.) Comforting, calming. I feel relaxed. Oh my gosh. I'm hugging Neil Gaiman. I think his jacket might have been suede, or faux-suede (nice jacket, looked warm). No awkwardness, not a quick automatic "good job" hug, it was a friendly, happy embrace. A "that was so good, thank you so much" sort of hug. It was a friend's hug, a well-done, congratulations hug. It was so nice.
It must be ten to midnight. I wanted to give him something happy at the end of the night, something to remember us by, something to remember me by, too - after hours and hours of signing and long plane rides, something out of the blue and interesting would be good. I thought it would be nice to do for him.
I had been so scared though. I like performing, I want to make a life out of performing. I kept telling myself it would be fine. If I hadn't left and gone to my band concert, I wouldn't have been able to do this - I would have had to have him sign my book and run, and it wouldn't have meant anything! I was so happy to have had the chance to make him happy, to show him thanks.
As I hugged him, he said, "Thank you so much; what a wonderful gift." So sincere, so thankful. I like to think I really did make him happy. What a long day. I was very glad - and very touched - that he liked my bit of song, and that he liked it enough to give me a hug and say it was a wonderful gift. So encouraging. He's such an encouraging, friendly, do whatever you want to do in life man.
I don't remember letting go, but we did, because then he signed my books. In Coraline, I asked him to sign on the quote page, and he drew one of the mice, but singing, and with long hair. I was so touched. I said, "Oh, it's one of the mice!" And he said, "Yes, and this one is singing." I was smiling so much. Then he signed Odd and the Frost Giants, for my sister.
I said thank you again, then one of my new friends was saying over in the corner "she's giddy!" which I was. I was so giddy. My heart was racing. So much that I fairly ran over to them, leaning against the bookshelf - "I did it! And I got to hug Neil Gaiman!"
We went out, and the manager of the store, who had been so helpful to me that day, said, "Was that you, Emily?" I said, breathlessly, "Yes, that was me." He said, "Somehow I knew it was you." and he smiled. Oh hooray! I made more than one person happy!
I realized that I was so happy that I had forgotten my coat and had to go back.
So after so much stress, it all worked out perfectly in the end. I am so happy. I got to meet Neil Gaiman, an amazing and inspirational author who is so friendly - I made new friends (my line-buddies of course!, and Neil Gaiman, who I would like to think is my friend), and I made a very tired author happy! He said I was good! He liked it! After all the stress leading up to this day, worrying about being double-booked, worrying about not getting my book signed, not getting to say hello … but instead, I got to sing to Neil Gaiman, make him smile, I got a hug, and I ended the day so happily. My performance made people happy.
Now I just have to get my Graveyard Book back … [which I will soon!]
[The clip will be up on YouTube in a couple days, and I will definitely tweet/post a link.]
Neil tweeted this at two in the morning or so last night: "Best bit was an Emily who sang to us." Oh, Neil, I am so glad you thought so, and so thankful I could do it! I was the best bit? Really? That means so much. I love singing for people and it was great to have the chance to sing for you.
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