Plague Years
Page 24
Acknowledgments
This book has had many iterations from its inception several years ago to its final version. One early reader whom I must thank is Joan Stephenson, who knew at once that the book should be a memoir. At first I didn’t know what it was; Joan suggested that I take a class on memoir writing and found Story Studio, a writer’s workshop in the Ravenswood neighborhood of Chicago. I was lucky enough to be accepted into a course titled Memoir in a Year, whose instructor, Nadine Kenney Johnstone, was a wonderful mentor and guide. She and my fellow students in the class, Angela Cameli, Ruth Hoberman, William Mansfield, Beverly Offen, Elizabeth Savage, Maria Springer, and Abby Terrell, held my feet to the fire and helped shape this memoir.
Others along the way who pushed me in the right direction were Carlos Mock, Joel Gallant, David Blatt, John Davidson, Sean Strub, Owen Keehnen, and, of course, my business partner—and second husband, as I jokingly call him—Tom Klein, who has traveled unflinchingly with me on this journey for the last thirty-five years. He made many helpful remarks as I wrote and rewrote the book umpteen times. My business manager and dearest friend of more than twenty-five years, Mary Ammons, also gave me some keen advice when she read the book at various stages. But more important, without her loving and clearheaded stewardship of our at times chaotic and heartbreaking practice, I couldn’t have survived.
I’d like to give special thanks to Robert Sharoff, who was not only a steadfast cheerleader but a patient counselor during the difficult process of finding a publisher. He was not my agent (I had none), but was better than an agent. Moreover, I’m grateful to my editor, Tim Mennel, for sharpening my prose and forcing me to look deeper into myself when my instinct was to shy away from the more difficult questions.
And last but not least, I must thank my most trusted confidant, loving companion, and insightful critic, my husband Ted Grady. When he pronounced my first tentative steps at writing this book “nitty”—that is, too clinical and not sufficiently emotional—I was surprised. But he was right. I had my work cut out for me.