A few weeks ago I was privileged to have lunch with Jane Green. We met in Westport, and I as I held a table for us in a busy restaurant, I looked with admiration at the other lunching women gathered there, with perfect hair and clean iphones.
I felt pasty, and nervous. As though I'd walked into a world in which I did not belong. Now, usually I'm not the nervous type. But meeting Jane Green? An author I read and admire? This was not a normal situation.
And then there she was. She breezed in, face flushed, dressed in writerly clothes. Hair held back with inviting wisps escaping in all the right ways. I'm sure I looked at her with a kind of solid desperation, and that's how she recognized me.
Warm does not begin to describe her. Earth mother writing Goddess? Yes, that's closer. After my initial groupie dithering, we began to talk. We talked about her stories and my stories. About our characters and how we write.
And then we talked about yarn, and cooking, and gardens. Before I knew it I was sharing my life with her. Details that I hold back. But you see... Jane was immediately a safe place. A writer's haven.
Too soon we had to leave. I didn't want to go. I wanted to linger in that safe place and make sure I soaked up every detail so I could revisit it when I needed it later on.
She said I was fearless. I fell in love.
If you have not yet read a Jane Green novel, you should. She weaves stories that steep you in atmosphere and explore the inner meaning of love and friendship. Pick up a book and get lost with Jane. There's no safer or lovelier place to be on the planet.