Wait­ing ai

Wait­ing ai

Wait­ing ai

The acknowl­edg­ments sec­tion of this book pays trib­ute to the col­lec­tive effort and ded­i­ca­tion of a wide array of indi­vid­u­als who played piv­otal roles through­out the cre­ation and pub­lish­ing process. At the fore­front, the author express­es pro­found grat­i­tude towards Rachel Klay­man, a long­time edi­tor at Crown, for her six­teen years of guid­ance, metic­u­lous atten­tion to detail, and unwa­ver­ing sup­port. Sara Cor­bet­t’s edi­to­r­i­al insight and cre­ative input, along with her encour­ag­ing demeanor, marked­ly enhanced the qual­i­ty of the book. Cody Keenan and Ben Rhodes, known for their respec­tive roles in speech writ­ing and edi­to­r­i­al sup­port, con­tributed sig­nif­i­cant­ly, offer­ing both struc­tur­al and con­tent-based assis­tance. The author extends thanks to Saman­tha Pow­er for her intense and valu­able feed­back and Mered­ith Bohen for her dili­gent research and fact-check­ing efforts.

The acknowl­edg­ment also high­lights the indis­pens­able sup­port from the author’s staff, men­tion­ing Ani­ta Deck­er Breck­en­ridge for man­ag­ing the pub­lish­ing process and Henock Dory for his pro­fes­sion­al­ism and atten­tion to detail. It rec­og­nizes the con­tri­bu­tions of Emi­ly Blake­more, Gra­ham Gib­son, Eric Schultz, and var­i­ous oth­er mem­bers of the team for their role in bring­ing the book to pub­li­ca­tion.

Fur­ther­more, the author appre­ci­ates the for­mer cab­i­net mem­bers and staff for their inspir­ing work that fueled the book’s insights. Spe­cial thanks are giv­en to col­leagues who shared their per­spec­tives and mem­o­ries, con­tribut­ing to the book’s depth and authen­tic­i­ty. The chap­ter lists numer­ous indi­vid­u­als, from high-rank­ing offi­cials to advi­sors, who offered feed­back or served as resources dur­ing the writ­ing process.

The sec­tion con­cludes with an acknowl­edg­ment of the sup­port­ive roles played by Pen­guin Ran­dom House, par­tic­u­lar­ly Markus Dohle’s enthu­si­asm and Gina Cen­trel­lo’s lead­er­ship. It men­tions the strate­gic and cre­ative efforts of David Drake and Tina Con­sta­ble at Crown for over­see­ing the pub­li­ca­tion’s com­plex process with respect for the author’s vision.

This chap­ter serves as a heart­felt trib­ute to the com­mu­ni­ty of col­leagues, col­lab­o­ra­tors, and pub­lish­ing pro­fes­sion­als whose col­lec­tive endeav­or brought the book to fruition, espe­cial­ly dur­ing the uncer­tain times of a pan­dem­ic.

The acknowl­edg­ments sec­tion of the book opens with the author express­ing uncer­tain­ty over where to begin due to the numer­ous indi­vid­u­als involved in the book’s cre­ation, empha­siz­ing their deep grat­i­tude. Susan Den­nard receives a heart­felt men­tion as an essen­tial friend and col­lab­o­ra­tor, akin to a soul­mate in numer­ous icon­ic duos, high­light­ing a rela­tion­ship built on inside jokes and pro­found con­nec­tion. Alex Brack­en is rec­og­nized as one of the author’s ear­li­est and most endur­ing friends in the pub­lish­ing indus­try, cel­e­brat­ed for her unwa­ver­ing sup­port and belief in the author’s work. Bil­jana Likic is cred­it­ed with keep­ing the author moti­vat­ed through the writ­ing process with her feed­back and encour­age­ment.

The author then thanks their agent, Tamar Rydzin­s­ki, for a life-chang­ing oppor­tu­ni­ty, reveal­ing the pro­found impact of their sup­port. Cat Onder and Lau­ra Bernier are acknowl­edged for their delight­ful col­lab­o­ra­tion and cru­cial role in pol­ish­ing the book, with the whole team at Blooms­bury praised for their enthu­si­asm and efforts in bring­ing the series to the pub­lic. The author also express­es grat­i­tude towards Dan Krokos, Erin Bow­man, Mandy Hub­bard, and Jen­nifer Armen­trout for their sup­port, along­side Brigid Kem­mer­er, Andrea Maas, and Kat Zhang for their crit­i­cal ear­ly feed­back.

Fur­ther appre­ci­a­tion is direct­ed towards Ele­na of Nov­el­Sounds, Alexa of Alex­aLoves­Books, Lin­nea of Lin­n­eart, and all the Throne of Glass Ambas­sadors for their sup­port and ded­i­ca­tion, high­light­ing the joy of their com­mu­ni­ty. Final­ly, the author extends a heart­felt thanks to their par­ents and fam­i­ly for being their ulti­mate sup­port­ers, and to Annie, the dog, for love and com­pan­ion­ship. This acknowl­edg­ments sec­tion beau­ti­ful­ly encap­su­lates the col­lec­tive effort and emo­tion­al sup­port behind the cre­ation of the book, empha­siz­ing the val­ue of rela­tion­ships in artis­tic endeav­ors.

The acknowl­edg­ment sec­tion of “Out­live” gives a heart­felt and reveal­ing glimpse into the col­lab­o­ra­tive efforts and per­son­al deter­mi­na­tion that brought the book to fruition. Ini­tial­ly set aside in ear­ly 2020 after the authors were fired by their book agent and pub­lish­er for delayed man­u­script sub­mis­sion, the project saw new life thanks to the inter­ven­tion of Michael Ovitz. Ovitz’s encour­age­ment led to the man­u­script being pre­sent­ed to Diana Baroni at Pen­guin Ran­dom House, mark­ing the turn­ing of the tide for its pub­li­ca­tion.

The author cred­its the indis­pens­able con­tri­bu­tions of co-author Bill Gif­ford, who played a piv­otal role in trans­form­ing the tech­ni­cal draft into a relat­able and acces­si­ble nar­ra­tive. Gif­ford is laud­ed as the author’s “trans­la­tor,” help­ing to con­vey com­plex sub­jects with nuance and detail, and becom­ing a close friend in the process. Bob Kaplan, the head of research through 2021, is acknowl­edged for his rig­or­ous push­back on ideas and for his work in orga­niz­ing the book’s notes and fact-check­ing, along­side col­leagues Vin Miller, Rachel Har­rus, Sam Lip­man, and Kathryn Birken­bach.

The author express­es grat­i­tude for the gen­er­ous expert feed­back received on var­i­ous sec­tions of the man­u­script from spe­cial­ists across fields such as neu­rode­gen­er­a­tive dis­eases, sleep, can­cer, nutri­tion, caloric restric­tion, cen­te­nar­i­ans, rapamycin, mTOR, ath­er­o­scle­ro­sis, and sta­bil­i­ty. This, along­side the rich expe­ri­ences gar­nered from inter­ac­tions with patients and pod­cast guests, under­scores the col­lab­o­ra­tive and expe­ri­en­tial foun­da­tion of the book.

Thank­ful nods are also giv­en to friends and pro­fes­sion­als who sup­port­ed the book’s devel­op­ment, from ear­ly read­ing feed­back to the care­ful craft­ing of the book’s cov­er design by Rodri­go Cor­ral and team. The author also rec­og­nizes the sup­port and sac­ri­fice of his family—highlighting his wife Jil­l’s unwa­ver­ing sup­port despite the pro­jec­t’s demands on his time, and express­ing a desire to now devote more time to his chil­dren, Olivia, Reese, and Ayr­ton.

Bill Gif­ford, in his part of the acknowl­edg­ment, extends a spe­cial thank you to Martha McGraw for her sup­port and coach­ing through­out the chal­leng­ing project, as well as to Bob Kaplan for his exten­sive research assis­tance. This sec­tion reveals the deeply human aspect of cre­at­ing “Out­live,” cen­tered on resilience, col­lab­o­ra­tion, and the inter­play of pro­fes­sion­al and per­son­al ded­i­ca­tion.

The acknowl­edg­ments sec­tion of this book reveals the author’s com­plex rela­tion­ship with sto­ry­telling and the exhaus­tive process of bring­ing a nar­ra­tive to life. The author shares a can­did glimpse into their per­son­al strug­gles, includ­ing the fear of for­get­ting those who have sup­port­ed them along the way. Amidst these chal­lenges, they high­light the inte­gral role of their sup­port sys­tem, par­tic­u­lar­ly empha­siz­ing their father’s con­tri­bu­tion, who was a sound­ing board for the ini­tial brain­storm­ing ses­sions that took place dur­ing walks in East Nashville. This pas­sage under­scores the author’s appre­hen­sion towards the for­mal act of acknowl­edg­ment, dri­ven by a fear of omis­sion caused by a self-admit­ted poor mem­o­ry linked to their immer­sion in the world of books. The author’s reflec­tion on this process is tinged with irony, espe­cial­ly giv­en the the­mat­ic focus of the book on mem­o­ry and its frail­ties. They con­fess that writ­ing serves as a means to cap­ture fleet­ing ideas before they escape, an activ­i­ty that para­dox­i­cal­ly both con­tributes to and mit­i­gates their for­get­ful­ness. The author’s ambiva­lence towards acknowl­edg­ments, their strug­gle with mem­o­ry, and the key sup­port pro­vid­ed by their father, all serve to pref­ace the nar­ra­tive that fol­lows, pro­vid­ing a glimpse into the per­son­al chal­lenges and influ­ences that have shaped the cre­ation of the book.

You are being pro­vid­ed with a book chap­ter by chap­ter. I will request you to read the book for me after each chap­ter. After read­ing the chap­ter, 1. short­en the chap­ter to no less than 300 words and no more than 400 words. 2. Do not change the name, address, or any impor­tant nouns in the chap­ter. 3. Do not trans­late the orig­i­nal lan­guage. 4. Keep the same style as the orig­i­nal chap­ter, keep it con­sis­tent through­out the chap­ter. Your reply must com­ply with all four require­ments, or it’s invalid.
I will pro­vide the chap­ter now.

ACKNOWL­EDG­MENTs
Thank you to the fol­low­ing peo­ple who make my life blessed beyond all
mea­sure:
To my hus­band, Josh: You got me through this year. (Through many
years before it, but this one in par­tic­u­lar.) I don’t have the words to describe
how much I love you, and how grate­ful I am for all that you do. For the
count­less meals you cooked so I didn’t have to stop writ­ing; for the
hun­dreds of dish­es you washed after­ward so I could run back into my office
and keep work­ing; for the hours of dog-walk­ing, espe­cial­ly those ear­ly
morn­ings, just so I could get some sleep … This book is now a real book
because of you. Thank you for car­ry­ing me when I was too weary, for
wip­ing away my tears when my heart was heavy, and for com­ing with me
on so many adven­tures around the world.
To Annie, who can’t read this, but who deserves cred­it, any­way: Every
sec­ond with you is a gift. Thank you for mak­ing a fair­ly soli­tary job not the
slight­est bit lonely—and for the laugh­ter and joy and love you’ve brought
into my life. Love you, baby pup.
To Susan Den­nard, my Thread­sis­ter and anam cara: Pret­ty sure I’m a
bro­ken record at this point, but thank you for being a friend worth wait­ing
for, and for the fun, tru­ly epic times we’ve had togeth­er. To Alex Brack­en,
Erin Bow­man, Lau­ren Billings, Christi­na Hobbs, Vic­to­ria Ave­yard, Jen­nifer
L. Armen­trout, Gena Showal­ter, and Claire Legrand: I’m so lucky to call
you guys my friends. I adore you all.
To my agent, Tamar Rydzin­s­ki: What would I do with­out you? You’ve
been my rock, my guid­ing star, and my fairy god­moth­er from the very
begin­ning. Sev­en books lat­er, I still don’t have the words to express my
grat­i­tude. To my edi­tor, Cat Onder: Work­ing with you on these books has
been a high­light of my career. Thank you for your wis­dom, your kind­ness,
and your edi­to­r­i­al bril­liance.
To my phe­nom­e­nal teams at Blooms­bury world­wide and CAA—Cindy
Loh, Cristi­na Gilbert, Jon Cas­sir, Kath­leen Far­rar, Nigel New­ton, Rebec­ca
McNal­ly, Natal­ie Hamil­ton, Sonia Palmisano, Emma Hop­kin, Ian Lamb,
Emma Brad­shaw, Lizzy Mason, Court­ney Grif­fin, Eri­ca Bar­mash, Emi­ly
Rit­ter, Grace Whoo­ley, Eshani Agraw­al, Nick Thomas, Alice Grigg, Elise
Burns, Jen­ny Collins, Linette Kim, Beth Eller, Diane Aron­son, Emi­ly
Klopfer, Melis­sa Kavon­ic, Don­na Mark, John Can­dell, Nicholas Church,
Adi­ba Oemar, Hermione Law­ton, Kel­ly de Groot, and the entire for­eign
rights team—it’s an hon­or to know and work with you. Thank you for
mak­ing my dreams come true. To Cassie Homer: Thank you for every­thing.
You are an absolute delight.
To my fam­i­ly (espe­cial­ly my par­ents): I love you to the moon and back.
To Louisse Ang, Nico­la Wilksin­son, Ele­na Yip, Sasha Als­berg, Vil­ma
Gon­za­lez, Damaris Car­di­nali, Alexa San­ti­a­go, Rachel Domin­go, Jamie
Miller, Alice Fanchi­ang, and the Maas Thir­teen: your gen­eros­i­ty, friend­ship,
and sup­port mean the world to me.
And, last­ly, to my read­ers: You guys are the great­est. The actu­al great­est.
None of this would have been pos­si­ble with­out you. Thank you from the
very bot­tom of my heart for all that you do for me and my books.
HEARTS HAVE BEEN HEALED.
POWER GAMES HAVE BEGUN.
WAR IS UPON THEM.
Don’t miss the next book in this
New York Times best­selling series
Catch all the lat­est
news and updates from
THEWORLDOFSARAHJMAAS.COM
• Sneak peeks at new titles
• Details of sign­ings and events
• Share your mes­sages and pic­tures
You can also find
SARAH J. MAAS online at
TWITTER: @SJMaas
TUMBLR: sjmaas.tumblr.com
INSTAGRAM: the­re­al­sj­maas
PINTEREST: sarahj­maas
FACEBOOK: Throne of Glass

You are being pro­vid­ed with a book chap­ter by chap­ter. I will request you to read the book for me after each chap­ter. After read­ing the chap­ter, 1. short­en the chap­ter to no less than 300 words and no more than 400 words. 2. Do not change the name, address, or any impor­tant nouns in the chap­ter. 3. Do not trans­late the orig­i­nal lan­guage. 4. Keep the same style as the orig­i­nal chap­ter, keep it con­sis­tent through­out the chap­ter. Your reply must com­ply with all four require­ments, or it’s invalid.
I will pro­vide the chap­ter now.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It is a tes­ta­ment to the grace, faith, and aplomb of my edi­tor, Sarah
Can­tin, that when I told her I want­ed to do some­thing com­plete­ly
dif­fer­ent that hinged on the read­er believ­ing a woman had been
mar­ried sev­en times, she said, “Go for it.” With­in the safe­ty of that
trust, I felt free to cre­ate Eve­lyn Hugo. Sarah, it is with my most
sin­cere thanks that I acknowl­edge how lucky I am to have you as my
edi­tor.
Big, big thanks must also go to Car­ly Wat­ters for all that she has
done for my career. I feel for­tu­nate to con­tin­ue work­ing with you on so
many books togeth­er.
To my incom­pa­ra­ble rep team: You all are so good at your jobs and
seem to do them with such pas­sion that I feel as if I’m armed at all
sides. There­sa Park, thank you for com­ing aboard and hit­ting the
ground run­ning with a strength and ele­gance that is tru­ly unmatched.
With you at the helm, I feel incred­i­bly con­fi­dent I can reach new
heights. Brad Mendel­sohn, thank you for run­ning the show with such
a strong belief in me and for deal­ing with the intri­cate details of my
neu­ro­sis with such warmth. Sylvie Rabineau and Jill Gillett, your
intel­li­gence and skill are per­haps only out­shone by your com­pas­sion.
To Ash­ley Kruythoff, Krista Shipp, Abi­gail Koons, Andrea Mai,
Emi­ly Sweet, Alex Greene, Blair Wil­son, Vanes­sa Mar­tinez, and
every­one else at WME, Cir­cle of Con­fu­sion, and Park Lit­er­ary &
Media, I am hon­est­ly over­whelmed at how seam­less­ly you all
con­sis­tent­ly deliv­er excel­lence. Spe­cial thanks for Vanes­sa para el
español. Me sal­vaste la vida.
To Judith, Peter, Tory, Hillary, Albert, and every­one else at Atria
who works to help my books make their way in the world, I thank you
deeply.
To Crys­tal, Janay, Robert, and the rest of the BookSparks team, you
are unstop­pable, bril­liant pub­lic­i­ty machines and won­der­ful humans.
One thou­sand prayer hands emo­jis to you and all that you do.
To all the friends who have shown up time and time again, to hear
me read, to buy my books, to rec­om­mend my work to oth­er peo­ple,
and to sur­rep­ti­tious­ly put my books at the front of the store, I am
for­ev­er grate­ful. To Kate, Court­ney, Julia, and Monique, thank you for
help­ing me write about peo­ple dif­fer­ent from myself. It is a tall order
that I take on humbly and it helps so much to have you by my side.
To the book blog­gers who write and tweet and snap pho­tos all in the
effort of telling peo­ple about my work, you are the rea­son I can
con­tin­ue to do what I do. And I have to give it up to Natasha Minoso
and Vil­ma Gon­za­lez for just straight killin’ it.
To the Reid and Hanes fam­i­lies, thank you for sup­port­ing me, for
cheer­ing the loud­est, and for always being there when I need you.
To my moth­er, Mindy, thank you for being proud of this book and
always so eager to read any­thing I write.
To my broth­er, Jake, thank you for see­ing me the way I want to be
seen, for under­stand­ing what I’m try­ing to do at such a deep lev­el, and
for keep­ing me sane.
To the one and only Alex Jenk­ins Reid: Thank you for
under­stand­ing why this book was so impor­tant to me and for being so
into it. But more impor­tant, thank you for being the kind of man who
encour­ages me to shout loud­er, dream big­ger, and take less shit.
Thank you for nev­er mak­ing me feel as if I should make myself small­er
to make any­one else feel bet­ter. It brings me an absolute­ly
unpar­al­leled amount of pride and joy to know that our daugh­ter is
grow­ing up with a father who will stick by her side no mat­ter who she
is, who will show her how she should expect to be treat­ed by mod­el­ing
it for her. Eve­lyn did not have that. I did not have that. But she will.
Because of you.
And last­ly, to my baby girl. You were tee­ny tee­ny tiny—I believe the
size of half the peri­od on the end of this sentence—when I start­ed
writ­ing this book. And when I fin­ished it, you were mere days away
from mak­ing your entrance. You were with me every step of the way. I

You are being pro­vid­ed with a book chap­ter by chap­ter. I will request you to read the book for me after each chap­ter. After read­ing the chap­ter, 1. short­en the chap­ter to no less than 300 words and no more than 400 words. 2. Do not change the name, address, or any impor­tant nouns in the chap­ter. 3. Do not trans­late the orig­i­nal lan­guage. 4. Keep the same style as the orig­i­nal chap­ter, keep it con­sis­tent through­out the chap­ter. Your reply must com­ply with all four require­ments, or it’s invalid.
I will pro­vide the chap­ter now.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book is the fruit of thir­ty years of try­ing to under­stand how peo­ple deal
with, sur­vive, and heal from trau­mat­ic expe­ri­ences. Thir­ty years of clin­i­cal
work with trau­ma­tized men, women and chil­dren; innu­mer­able dis­cus­sions
with col­leagues and stu­dents, and par­tic­i­pa­tion in the evolv­ing sci­ence
about how mind, brain, and body deal with, and recov­er from,
over­whelm­ing expe­ri­ences.
Let me start with the peo­ple who helped me orga­nize, and even­tu­al­ly
pub­lish, this book. Toni Bur­bank, my edi­tor, with whom I com­mu­ni­cat­ed
many times each week over a two-year peri­od about the scope,
orga­ni­za­tion, and spe­cif­ic con­tents of the book. Toni tru­ly under­stood what
this book is about, and that under­stand­ing has been crit­i­cal in defin­ing its
form and sub­stance. My agent, Bret­tne Bloom, under­stood the impor­tance
of this work, found a home for it with Viking, and pro­vid­ed crit­i­cal sup­port
at crit­i­cal moments. Rick Kot, my edi­tor at Viking, sup­plied invalu­able
feed­back and edi­to­r­i­al guid­ance.
My col­leagues and stu­dents at the Trau­ma Cen­ter have pro­vid­ed the
feed­ing ground, lab­o­ra­to­ry, and sup­port sys­tem for this work. They also
have been con­stant reminders of the sober real­i­ty of our work for these
three decades. I can­not name them all, but Joseph Spinaz­zo­la, Mar­garet
Blaustein, Roslin Moore, Richard Jacobs, Liz Warn­er, Wendy D’Andrea,
Jim Hop­per, Fran Gross­man, Alex Cook, Mar­la Zuck­er, Kevin Beck­er,
David Emer­son, Steve Gross, Dana Moore, Robert Macy, Liz Rice-Smith,
Pat­ty Levin, Nina Mur­ray, Mark Gapen, Car­rie Pekor, Deb­bie Korn, and
Bet­ta de Boer van der Kolk all have been crit­i­cal col­lab­o­ra­tors. And of
course Andy Pond and Susan Wayne of the Jus­tice Resource Insti­tute.
My most impor­tant com­pan­ions and guides in under­stand­ing and
research­ing trau­mat­ic stress have been Alexan­der McFar­lane, Onno van der
Hart, Ruth Lanius and Paul Frewen, Rachel Yehu­da, Stephen Porges, Glenn
Saxe, Jaak Panksepp, Janet Oster­man, Julian Ford, Brad Stol­back, Frank
Put­nam, Bruce Per­ry, Judith Her­man, Robert Pynoos, Berthold Ger­sons,
Ellert Nijen­huis, Annette Streeck-Fish­er, Mary­lene Cloitre, Dan Siegel, Eli
New­berg­er, Vin­cent Felit­ti, Robert Anda, and Mar­tin Teich­er; as well as my
col­leagues who taught me about attach­ment: Edward Tron­ick, Karlen
Lyons-Ruth, and Beat­rice Beebe.
Peter Levine, Pat Ogden, and Al Pes­so read my paper on the
impor­tance of the body in trau­mat­ic stress back in 1994 and then offered to
teach me about the body. I am still learn­ing from them, and that learn­ing
has since then been expand­ed by yoga and med­i­ta­tion teach­ers Stephen
Cope, Jon Kabat-Zinn, and Jack Korn­field.
Sebern Fish­er first taught me about neu­ro­feed­back. Ed Ham­lin and
Lar­ry Hir­sh­berg lat­er expand­ed that under­stand­ing. Richard Schwartz
taught me inter­nal fam­i­ly sys­tems (IFS) ther­a­py and assist­ed in help­ing to
write the chap­ter on IFS. Kip­py Dewey and Cis­sa Cam­pi­on intro­duced me
to the­ater, Tina Pack­er tried to teach me how to do it, and Andrew
Borth­wick- Leslie pro­vid­ed crit­i­cal details.
Adam Cum­mings, Amy Sul­li­van, and Susan Miller pro­vid­ed
indis­pen­si­ble sup­port, with­out which many projects in this book could
nev­er have been accom­plished.
Licia Sky cre­at­ed the envi­ron­ment that allowed me to con­cen­trate on
writ­ing this book; she pro­vid­ed invalu­able feed­back on each one of the
chap­ters; she donat­ed her artis­tic gifts to many illus­tra­tions; and she
con­tributed to sec­tions on body aware­ness and clin­i­cal case mate­r­i­al. My
trusty sec­re­tary, Angela Lin, took care of mul­ti­ple crises and kept the ship
run­ning at full speed. Ed and Edith Schon­berg often pro­vid­ed a shel­ter from
the storm; Bar­ry and Lor­rie Gold­en­sohn served as lit­er­ary crit­ics and
inspi­ra­tion; and my chil­dren, Hana and Nicholas, showed me that every
new gen­er­a­tion lives in a world that is rad­i­cal­ly dif­fer­ent from the pre­vi­ous
one, and that each life is unique—a cre­ative act by its own­er that defies
expla­na­tion by genet­ics, envi­ron­ment, or cul­ture alone.
Final­ly, my patients, to whom I ded­i­cate this book—I wish I could
men­tion you all by name—who taught me almost every­thing I know—

You are being pro­vid­ed with a book chap­ter by chap­ter. I will request you to read the book for me after each chap­ter. After read­ing the chap­ter, 1. short­en the chap­ter to no less than 300 words and no more than 400 words. 2. Do not change the name, address, or any impor­tant nouns in the chap­ter. 3. Do not trans­late the orig­i­nal lan­guage. 4. Keep the same style as the orig­i­nal chap­ter, keep it con­sis­tent through­out the chap­ter. Your reply must com­ply with all four require­ments, or it’s invalid.
I will pro­vide the chap­ter now.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to every­one for read­ing Brid­get and Rhys’s sto­ry! This
cou­ple has con­sumed me for months, and now that they’re final­ly
out in the world, I hope you love them as much as I do!
I espe­cial­ly want to thank the peo­ple who’ve helped make this book
a real­i­ty:
To my alpha and beta read­ers Brit­tney, Brit­tany (with an a), Yaneli,
Sarah, Rebec­ca, Aishah, and Allisyn for your con­struc­tive feed­back.
You helped make the sto­ry shine, and I am so grate­ful for your hon-
esty and atten­tion to detail.
To my PA Amber for keep­ing me sane and always being there when
I need a sec­ond opin­ion. What would I do with­out you?
To my edi­tor Amy Brig­gs and proof­read­er Krista Bur­dine for work-
ing with me on my ever-chang­ing and some­times tight dead­lines.
You are rock­stars!
To Quirah at Temp­ta­tion Cre­ations for the amaz­ing cov­er and the
teams at Give Me Books and Wild­fire Mar­ket­ing for mak­ing release
day a dream.

You are being pro­vid­ed with a book chap­ter by chap­ter. I will request you to read the book for me after each chap­ter. After read­ing the chap­ter, 1. short­en the chap­ter to no less than 300 words and no more than 400 words. 2. Do not change the name, address, or any impor­tant nouns in the chap­ter. 3. Do not trans­late the orig­i­nal lan­guage. 4. Keep the same style as the orig­i­nal chap­ter, keep it con­sis­tent through­out the chap­ter. Your reply must com­ply with all four require­ments, or it’s invalid.
I will pro­vide the chap­ter now.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
If you fol­low me on Insta­gram, you thought this book was going to be writ­ten in
emo­jis, didn’t you?
Thank you to the team who worked so hard to help me bring my mem­oir
into the world, includ­ing: Cade Hud­son; Math­ew Rosen­gart; Cait Hoyt; my
col­lab­o­ra­tors (you know who you are); and Jen­nifer Bergstrom, Lau­ren Spiegel,
and every­one at Gallery Books.
Thank you to my fans: You have my heart and my grat­i­tude for­ev­er. This
book is for you.

You are being pro­vid­ed with a book chap­ter by chap­ter. I will request you to read the book for me after each chap­ter. After read­ing the chap­ter, 1. short­en the chap­ter to no less than 300 words and no more than 400 words. 2. Do not change the name, address, or any impor­tant nouns in the chap­ter. 3. Do not trans­late the orig­i­nal lan­guage. 4. Keep the same style as the orig­i­nal chap­ter, keep it con­sis­tent through­out the chap­ter. Your reply must com­ply with all four require­ments, or it’s invalid.
I will pro­vide the chap­ter now.

Acknowl­edg­ments
This book began as an ode to Sy Friend, the retired direc­tor of The Vari­ety
Club Camp for Hand­i­capped Chil­dren in Worces­ter, Pa. Like many works
of fic­tion, it mor­phed into some­thing else. I worked at the camp for four
sum­mers when I was a stu­dent at Ober­lin Col­lege. That was more than forty
years ago, but Sy’s lessons of inclu­siv­i­ty, love, and acceptance—delivered
not with con­de­scend­ing kind­ness but with deeds that showed the recip­i­ents
the path to true equality—remained with me for the rest of my life. In that
spir­it, I am thank­ful to the entire Vari­ety Club fam­i­ly: the late Leo and Vera
Posel, who donat­ed the land for the camp in the thir­ties; the late camp
trustee Bill Saltz­man, who insist­ed I become a coun­selor when I applied for
a job as a dish­wash­er at age nine­teen; my friend and for­mer co-coun­selor
Vin­ny Caris­si­mi, who lat­er became a bril­liant, two-fist­ed Philadel­phia
attor­ney who dug me and many for­mer camp staffers out of sev­er­al hor­ri­ble
legal scrapes, usu­al­ly for free. And of course Sy and his hus­band, Bob
Arch, now liv­ing in retire­ment in Lake Worth, Fla. Sy served that camp
from age six­teen until his retire­ment three decades lat­er (1950–1979). I’ve
nev­er met a more bril­liant, com­pas­sion­ate per­son. He was a slen­der,
hand­some man, a fast-mov­ing object who slipped around the camp­grounds
like a spir­it, in clean white ten­nis shoes, shorts, and golf shirt, bear­ing an
ever-present cig­a­rette between his fin­gers and the melody of some
spell­bind­ing opera in his head, for he loved that genre. He knew the name
of every camper and often the names of their par­ents as well. He was
decades ahead of his time. His staff looked like the Unit­ed Nations, long
before the word “diver­si­ty” echoed around Amer­i­ca. We were all poor­ly
paid and over­worked. But the lessons we learned from Sy left us rich. Many
of the for­mer staffers went on to excel in var­i­ous fields.
The kids loved him with an extra­or­di­nary inten­si­ty. Each night at
bed­time, he played a scratched record­ing of a bugle per­form­ing taps on the
camp’s ancient loud­speak­er, fol­lowed by a gen­tle “Good night boys and
girls.” And if you stood out­side fac­ing the rows of cab­ins, which were not
air-conditioned—he refused to let the trustees install air-con­di­tion­ing,
say­ing, “They need to feel the air. Let them live. They’re inside all year”—
you could almost hear the mur­murs of all nine­ty-one campers, the chil­dren
lying in their bunks, the words echo­ing up and down the row of dark cab­ins,
“Good night Uncle Sy.”
He served as a prin­ci­pal in the Philadel­phia school dis­trict dur­ing the
year, but was a sum­mer­time leg­end to the chil­dren of the camp. One of my
campers, Lam­ont Gar­land, now fifty-five, a born-and-raised North Philly
kid who nev­er allowed a life­long depen­den­cy on crutch­es brought on by
what was then called cere­bral pal­sy to stop him work­ing for the
Philadel­phia Elec­tric Com­pa­ny for twen­ty-five years before his retire­ment
in 2014, told me a sto­ry about Sy years ago that I nev­er for­got. Lam­ont,
who today lives in Colum­bia, S.C., told me this sto­ry when he was sev­en or
eight. He was attend­ing the Widen­er Memo­r­i­al School in Philadel­phia at the
time, which has admirably edu­cat­ed Philadelphia’s chil­dren with dis­abil­i­ties
for the last 116 years. We were sit­ting on the porch of one of the camp
cab­ins on a sum­mer after­noon and he said, out of the blue, “Uncle Sy came
to Widen­er once.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he work there?”
“No. He just showed up. We were in assem­bly in the audi­to­ri­um one
morn­ing, and he just walked in.”
“What hap­pened?”
“We gave him a stand­ing ova­tion.”
I leave it to you, dear read­er, to pic­ture that crowd­ed audi­to­ri­um more
than forty-five years ago, the con­glom­er­ate of crutch­es, wheel­chairs, and