Talking about Special at the Beth Cafe

I found this gathering spot tucked away on an artist's street in Berlin, and was tempted to go in, claim it as mine, disappear.  Sometimes the world just beats you down and you think: It's too hard. I can't. I won't. I'll travel far, open a wee cafe. I'll change my name, and they can't find me.

But then: The weather changes or a note floats in or someone makes you laugh or you don't (at last!) ruin the cha-cha.  Today it was a call from Tamra Tuller of Philomel that shifted my mood.  I'll just say this:  The care she has taken of Small Damages, my Seville-centric novel that she recently acquired, has been nothing short of extraordinary.  A year away from publication and already the page proofs are in, immaculate, and gorgeously designed.  She takes the time to call and ask about a hyphen here, two extra words, a number.  I don't think she knows how valued she is, though I tell her.  She makes it sound like nothing special.

Except that it's something very special.