The last couple of weeks have been very exciting for me, since I’ve been up for a new contract and I’ve enjoyed the thrill of feeling wanted by publishers in both the United States and the United Kingdom. The new book I plan to write is one I’ve wanted to work on for several years–a true “book of my heart”–and it’s been so validating to see that publishers feel the same way about it. I’ve made the decision to publish with St. Martin’s Press in the US and Macmillan in the UK and I couldn’t be more thrilled. I’ll be forever grateful to my agents in both countries for all their hard work on my behalf.
I wasn’t surprised, then, when a florist van pulled up in front of my house Saturday, but I was surprised to see the massive size of the arrangement the driver pulled out of the back of the van. He staggered under the weight of it as he carried to my front door, and the only space big enough for it in my house was in front of my fireplace. As the driver dragged himself back to his van, I opened the little envelope sticking from the arrangement, quite certain it would be from my agent. But the card inside read In Sympathy and Joy and was signed by strangers. I ran outside and managed to wave the driver down before he took off. He checked his records to find that I had the wrong card but the right arrangement. He gave me a different card, this one with a warm and happy message from my agent, and I took a picture of the floral arrangement to send her in a thank you email. I felt just a little uncomfortable about the whole situation, because in addition to being insanely large (it’s in a galvanized tin basin!) there was something, well, funereal, about the arrangement.
So this morning my agent called me to say ACK! They’re not the flowers I sent! She’d carefully selected a florist in my area and just as carefully designed the arrangement she wanted delivered to me, but apparently I received one that was to go to a family celebrating a simultaneous joy and sorrow (which set my fiction writing imagination afire, you can be sure. My heart does go out to this family and the person who wanted to touch them with the flowers he’d selected for them). Within an hour, though, I had the flowers my agent had wanted me to receive (oh, wow, does she have phenomenal taste, or what? They are stunning!), plus the florist sent along the little vase of blooms at the top of this post as an apology. My house now smells unbelievably delicious and I love being surrounded by all this color!
What’s the funniest (in retrospect, of course) experience you’ve had with a delivery?