First One for the first lady

by Elizabeth

Julie, as you probably know, has her first book coming out in just a few months. There's plenty to get through before that, though. We've got the first report cards of the year, Julie's and Pamela's second kids coming home for their first Thanksgivings as college students; maybe my son will find his first girlfriend (ouch). Oh, and the election.

By the time Calling Me Home hits the shelves, the Obamas will have settled in for their final four years at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, or the Romneys will have just finished stowing their suitcases in the White House attics. Either way, an intelligent woman will hold the very unofficial title of first lady (nope, no caps; I learned that in my journalism days), and here's what is fun for Julie, and for all of us--she might read our book. And if she does, and she loves it, she might mention it! In a magazine article, during an interview, maybe on CNN. Can you imagine?

I can. A book I queried (alas, to no avail) had another first lady as a secondary character, and you bet my thoughts spiraled east as I sent off letters to agents. "How cool would it be...?" I thought. When I queried my first book (alas, to no avail), Laura Bush was the woman running the Residence. A librarian. Obviously a reader.

I'm not even talking politics here. (Heavens no!) I'm talking about the magical idea that on a cold Washington night, Julie's book or my book or your book might be waiting on the nightstand of whichever bedroom the President and his wife select or re-select (told you I'm not talking politics), to be scooped up with a sigh and pages turned as snow tumbles from the sky. I'm talking about the thought of her loving it so much she is moved to add Julie's name or my name or your name to the invite list for the next State dinner. I'm talking about the idea that the hours and hours spent picking over words, spent agonizing over the query and the rewrites and the notes and all of it, could eventually land Julie or me or you in one of the 120 seats in the State Dining Room. Heady stuff.

And don't get me started on what could happen across the pond if a Duchess or a Queen happens to love our words. Can you imagine?