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ten authors I would never ever ever be able to meet


Today’s Tuesday Top Ten List is technically supposed to be “10 Authors I Would Like to Meet” — only, nope. Wouldn’t do that. Because … of … I don’t even … No.

Standing in a signing line, walking up to someone whose work has affected me in any significant capacity, saying sentences to them, remembering my name long enough to repeat it, watching them write my name down, trying to come up with any amount of small talk that isn’t “BLARH ARGH BLAH BOOKS, THOUGH, YOU’RE GOOD AT THEM” is way too intimidating for me to even consider as a possible actual reality.

(I don’t know WHY, exactly. I guess this is a combination of social anxiety, fear of humiliation, fear of saying something ridiculous, fear of standing in lines (???), fear of forgetting my name, fear of making eye contact, fear of expressing to another person my feelings — there’s a lot to unpack here, so let’s just leave this emotional baggage firmly padlocked and crammed into the back of the storage closet, shall we? I’d rather pretend to be utterly unaffected than to melt into a puddle of feelings, apparently.)


So, the point is, instead of listing authors I’d like to meet, I’ll list authors whose work I care about too much to actually make eye contact with them:

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