1992
Cocreates Oyster, a very short-lived, very experimental, very ego-driven zine/newspaper.
1993
Introduced to artist Charise Mericle Harper. Meet every Thursday afternoon from this point on to occasionally collaborate on work, provide mutual sounding board, and much-needed, rose-colored encouragement.
1993
Takes playwriting workshop with Neo-Futurists theater company founder Greg Allen, whose philosophy resonates with her:
Work must reflect the randomness of life, with its incessant, merciless, almost humorous bombardment of highly contrasting emotions and experiences.
1995
Discovers writer David Shields in Harper’s Magazine. Crazy about his work. Soon thereafter reads his book Remote. Writes him. They correspond for a time.
1995
Discovers Paul Auster, whose book The Red Notebook reinforces the beauty and validity of coincidences/serendipity. Writes Auster. Cherishes his simple reply on elegant stationery.
1996
Records material in ad agency studio with engineer Stump Mahoney.
Sends it off to Ira Glass at This American Life. Receives call one gray Sunday afternoon. Work not right for their show, but he gives her crucial feedback: Work is way too random and scattered. Think about organizing material by subject in some way.
1996–1997
Writes for Might magazine. Is given joyous free rein to write choppy, random, handwritten, segue-free column.
Later develops similar column with solely parent-focused material for Parenting magazine. Good gig but abruptly ends after a few months when the magazine staff changes in their move from San Francisco to New York.
1997
Might folds. When she tries to sell her uncategorizable work to local newspaper, editor tells her,
Well, Amy, I’m afraid you’re a Might writer in a Might less world.
After nearly two years of rejections and dead ends, gets first piece in Utne Reader magazine.
1997
Almost writes/codirects short piece for MTV, but after initial green light, buzz, and excitement, and telling everyone about it, whole thing falls apart.
1997
Begins contributing commentaries and listlike pieces to Chicago’s NPR affiliate, WBEZ.
Station receives unusual feedback from listeners, along the lines of
Hey, I can do that. I for sure can do that. I’d like to do that. Can I do that?
Around this time, reads quote:
You don’t have to necessarily be the best at what you do—there’s always someone better. Instead, be the only one who does what you do.
1997
Decides to leave advertising.
After a year, she finally gets an agent. He sends out manuscript for The Book of Eleven. Receives wide range of well-crafted rejections.
1998
Publishes The Book of Eleven.
Well received by press and readers.
Assumes book will be bestseller, thinks that is just how it works.
Sales are educationally underwhelming.
1998
Finds new home for choppy, random column: Chicago Tribune online magazine. Upon securing this gig, signs up for Internet access.
Writes this column weekly for next four years, though midway through it moves to amused.com.
1999
Discovers The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon. From Introduction:
The Pillow Book is the precursor of a typically Japanese genre known as zuihitsu (“occasional writings, random notes”)…. The structural confusion of The Pillow Book is generally regarded as its main stylistic weakness; yet surely part of its charm lies precisely in its rather bizarre, haphazard arrangement in which a list of “awkward things,” for example, is followed by an account of the Emperor’s return from a shrine … and then a short, lyrical description of the dew on a clear autumn morning.
This is tremendously exciting to her. Enlightening. Reassuring.
1999
Has art show of sorts at local coffeehouse/gallery. Work is conceptually okay, but poorly executed.
1999
Tries to put together a couple of photo-essay concept books. One idea: Photograph and document the contents of various people’s refrigerators (celebrities and ordinary people alike).
Another: women’s purses.
Reads Alain de Botton’s book How Proust Can Change Your Life.
Becomes fixated on Proust-themed books and biographies.
A few years later, upon reading third book by Alain de Botton, sends e-mail to him.
2000
Reads James Thurber for first time.
Particularly drawn to his autobiographical “casuals” for
The New Yorker.
2000
Publishes second book, about motherhood.
Incorporates charts and an index.
2000–2002
Creates Writers’ Block Party Audio Magazine.
The critical success/commercial failure theme continues.
2001
Begins compiling all the pieces from weekly columns.
There are no thematic headings;
For organizational purposes, decides to aphabetize material according to first letter of each piece. Soon sees that this could make for an interesting format for a book.
Wonders if she shouldn’t just save all this material for a novel down the road, when she finally gets serious and tackles fiction. People often seem to imply this kind of nonfiction writing she does is only a means to an end, a breezy warm-up for inevitable fictional oeuvre.
2001
Publishes third book, again about motherhood. Contains longer pieces—essays—a writing form she likes but that she finds reminiscent of school writing assignments.
2001
Discovers writer Leonard Koren, author of 13 Books and Wabi-Sabi.
Sends e-mail. Kind reply. His wife’s name is Ziggie.
Spring 2002
Tells Charise about idea of writing not an autobiography exactly, but rather a biography of one’s self, interviewing people in your life as if writing third-person biography.
Charise thinks it sounds cool, and continues to ask about it, though Amy does not do anything with it for a while.
Late summer vacation reading 2002
Several books seem to come together, making a statement; things begin to gel.
Spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good … for another book.… The impulse to save something good for a better place later is the signal to spend it now.
—Annie Dillard, The Writing Life
What stops me from taking myself seriously, even though I’m essentially a serious person, is that I find myself extremely ridiculous—not in the sense of the small-scale ridiculousness of slapstick comedy, but rather in the sense of a ridiculousness that seems intrinsic to human life and that manifests itself in the simplest actions and most ordinary gestures. For example, I can never shave without starting to laugh; it seems so idiotic.
—Flaubert to Louise Colet, as retold in The Art of Travel by Alain de Botton
“Do you think I can be a writer?”
“I don’t know. Do you like sentences?”
—Conversation between teacher and student, as retold in The Writing Life by Annie Dillard
To simultaneously strive and let go … don’t be concerned with the fruits of your labor.
—The Heart of Yoga by T. K. V. Desikachar
Hone your craft, have fun, don’t go for “art.”
—Douglas Adams, The Salmon of Doubt
Fall 2002
Knows it is time to put a book together, though can’t yet see what it is, what it could be. Her material feels scattered; lacks anchor, structure, and purpose. Sets biography of self/interview idea in motion by contacting several key friends, sending off list of questions via e-mail. Soon realizes this would not work as a book but might be interesting incorporated into a book.r />
Further reading helps crystallize:
I called [Bob Dylan]…. I said, “I am totally wigged out and I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing, and I’ve got a lot of pressure to incorporate what’s going on.” He said, “Go back to your roots. Take out the albums that you loved and play those songs. Get your band together and rehearse those songs, and then you will start writing.” And that’s what I did.
—Sheryl Crow, Rolling Stone, October 31, 2002
But writing with simplicity requires courage, for there is a danger that one will be overlooked, dismissed as simpleminded by those with a tenacious belief that impossible prose is a hallmark of intelligence.
—Alain de Botton, The Consolations of Philosophy
Many things that I would not care to tell any individual man I tell to the public, and for knowledge of my most secret thoughts, I refer my most loyal friends to a bookseller’s stall.
—Montaigne, as quoted in The Consolations of Philosophy by Alain de Botton
Montaigne offered so much information on exactly how commonplace and private his own life had been—why he wanted to tell us:
That he didn’t like apples:
“I am not over fond of any fruit except melons.”
That he had a complex relationship with radishes:
“I first of all found that radishes agreed with me; then they did not; now they do again.”
That he ate too fast:
“In my haste I often bite my tongue and occasionally my fingers.”
—Alain de Botton, The Consolations of Philosophy
I have remembered, I suppose, what I wanted to remember; many ridiculous things for no reason that makes sense. That is the way we human creatures are made.
—Agatha Christie: An Autobiography
Begins fervent exploration of all forms that nonfiction takes, standard formats such as biography, autobiography, interviews, charts, how a private eye would write a character profile, criminal background checks, character analysis, etc.…
This search leads to scrutinizing the ultimate nonfiction entity: the encyclopedia. Needs to study a typical entry.
Grabs one volume randomly from her office, places it on bed to read that night.
Volume E.
Opens to Einstein’s entry. Finishes Einstein, keeps reading, comes to entry for the word encyclopedia itself. Is immediately intrigued by the history of the encyclopedia, how it evolved, all the different forms it’s taken over the years. It occurs to her in a moment she feels she will remember always but perhaps that is just the drama and delusion kicking in:
I am not writing a memoir (I have no story); I am not writing an autobiography (for who really cares). I am writing a personal encyclopedia, a thorough documentation of an ordinary life in the end of the twentieth century/beginning of the twenty-first. And in fact, while I didn’t know it then, I started this encyclopedia nearly two years ago, when I began gathering my columns/writings and putting them in alphabetical order. And I began it even before that, when I was busy making charts and tables for no apparent reason. And I began it even before that …
As if to lay claim to them, to make sure she is reading it right, begins typing out these revelatory passages from the entry for “Encyclopedia.” Excitedly nods along, yes, yes, yes, as the book becomes more and more and more cemented in her mind, the pieces all finally falling into place.
“… to provide in an orderly arrangement the essence of ‘all that is known’ on a subject.”
“Of the various types of reference works, the encyclopedia is the only one that can be termed self-contained. To this end it employs many features that can help in its task, including illustrations, maps, diagrams, charts, and statistical tables.”
“… constructed like an onion, the different layers enclosing the heart.”
“Encyclopedias have often reflected fairly accurately the civilization in which they appeared.”
“All great encyclopedia makers have tried to be truthful and to present a balanced picture of civilization, as they know it, although it is probable that no encyclopedia is totally unbiased.”
“Cross-references are an essential feature of the modern encyclopedia (system of arrows, or ‘see also,’ or words in small capital letters which indicate where additional info can be found).”
“The problem of the encyclopediast has always been to strike the right mean between too learned and too simplified an approach.”
November 2002–March 2003
Gets to work on what she now knows is titled Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life
Writes, writes.
March 2003
Completes first draft of Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life.
Gives to Charise, family, and agent Amy Rennert.
April/May 2003
Receives valuable feedback from colleagues John Green, Cynthia Kaplan, Tony Rogers, Dena Fischer.
July 2003
Completes second draft. Sends manuscript to agent.
August 6, 2003
Reads about Jeffrey Middleton, man who has illustrated new edition of Webster’s Dictionary.
His style would be perfect for Encyclopedia, she thinks.
Tears out article, puts in her book box, just in case, who knows.
September 19, 2003
A handful of editors receive Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life manuscript.
September 23, 2003
First rejection officially comes in.
Here we go.
September 24, 2003
Agent calls to relay positive message she received from an editor in the middle of night. With news that this editor gets it, gets intention behind book, AKR feels equipped to handle any outcome from here.
Thursday, October 2, 2003
Book goes to auction. Amy Rennert calls back and forth with updates.
Spends afternoon with Charise. At six P.M., on way to pick up son Miles from friend’s house, receives call from Amy Rennert. It’s official.
Crown will be publishing this book. Annik La Farge editor.
Call Jason. Call parents.
9:30 A.M. EST, October 15, 2003
Amy Rosenthal (no relation) and Amy Rosenthal (no relation), both of New York City, show up at offices of Crown/Random House on AKR’s behalf, bearing purple irises as a thank-you for editor Annik La Farge.
AKR had discovered the two Amy Rosenthals earlier in the month through a simple Google search, and after a couple e-mails and phone conversations explaining performance thank you concept, the women amazingly and generously agreed to participate.
February 12, 2004
Jeffrey Middleton agrees to illustrate.
March 1, 2004
Hands in third draft of manuscript.
April 2004
Book goes into production.
May 2004
Sales meetings, publicity meetings.
June 7, 2004
Hands in fourth draft of manuscript.
June 2004/January 2005
Crown people get busy.
Brian Belfiglio, Amy Boorstein, Tina Constable, Lauren Dong, Meg Drislane, Emily Eilertson, Jill Flaxman, Alison Forner, Jenny Frost, Doug Jones, Linda Kaplan, Kristin Kiser, Annik La Farge, Philip Patrick, Dan Rembert, Mario Rojas, Steve Ross, Karin Schulze, Penny Simon, Barbara Sturman, and Elizabeth Van Itallie.
November 2004
Book goes to printer.
January 2005
Book gets shipped to warehouses and bookstores.
This moment now
You are here.
X
[pause]
A
AMY
For a while I wished my name was spelled Aimee; it seemed so much more original, innovative, so chock-full of vowels. I like that my name can spell May and yam. When I was growing up, my parents would sing the old song “Once in Love with Amy.” I always liked when they did that. In my dating years, the song was “Amie,” by Pure Prairie League. Boy: (singing) “Amie / What you wanna do?” I alw
ays liked that little serenade as well. The Japanese word amai means the feeling of being cherished and expectation to be loved. The amygdala is the emotional center of the brain. People close to me call me Aim, and that feels affectionate and validating; conversely, I am wary of people I’ve just met who are prematurely chummy and refer to me that way. I’ve been signing my name like this
since the summer after seventh grade, when I invented it at overnight camp sitting on my top bunk.
The amygdala acts as the storehouse of emotional memory. Without the amygdala, life is stripped of personal meaning; all passion depends on it.
School assignment, first grade.
AMY ROSENTHAL
My father-in-law informed me that my married name could produce these two anagrams: Hearty Salmon. Nasty Armhole. I cannot tell you how much I love that.
ANSWERING MACHINE
In most cases, it is more satisfying to get a friend’s answering machine and leave a cheery, tangible trace of your sincere commitment to the friendship than it is to engage in actual conversation.
ANXIOUS, THINGS THAT MAKE ME
Table
TRAIN SCHEDULES
Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life Page 2