(Also, envying someone for being young just feels like a cliché, like something that would make Andrea roll her eyes. Also, I really hope someone hates me for being 29. But when I look at it from that standpoint, I know there’s not all that much that’s enviable about being a young writer because it means that you either A) probably don’t have a lot of life experience to draw from, or B) have a really fucked-up childhood to draw from.)
Anyway, I’m pretty sure Andrea’s not drawing on her fucked-up childhood, though she’s open about mining her youthful depression. The form this has taken most recently is To Feel Stuff, a novel about a chronically ill girl who lives in the
But before she got to that part, she danced.
She’d threatened to on her blog a long time ago because, she said, she thought readings were boring. My day job is basically to make book readings happen, so in theory I’m highly offended, but while a great reading is a priceless opportunity to build a community around the written word and all that…a lot of readings just drag.
So I was thrilled when Andrea tu
Opening with hyper-sincere jazz steps (lots of longingly extended arms and at least one pirouette that hinted at an authentic dance background), she segued into a co
As she signed my book, I asked if she’d taken dance classes, and she said no, but she’d been a cheerleader—a black-eyeliner-wearing goth cheerleader. I owned up to my own angsty-cheerleader past (it’s a whole high school type, I think, but one rarely portrayed in pop culture. Thora Birch’s character in American Beauty was a good start, though), and she wrote, “Cheerleaders unite!” in my book.
The “minus” part of my A- is really just room to grow—although I wouldn’t encourage Andrea to go too glitzy with it, because I’d hate for the routine to lose its no-frills, talent-show intimacy. Still, I’d love to see what she could do with a backup dancer or two. But hey, she’s only 26. There’s plenty of time for all that.