The process of writing a book can be a long one–interviews, organizing, writing, editing, choosing pictures, approving the graphic design. After all that, there is nothing better than seeing a client hold her book for the first time.
Here, Louise Brooks holds the first copy of her memoir.
Below is an excerpt she gladly shared:
Thirteen-year-old Louise walked home from the football game at
Tulane University, chatting with her group of friends. Behind her group of
girlfriends, another group of boys from her synagogue Sunday-school class
walked as well. She heard her name, teasing whispers, and muffled laughter.
“Ask her, come on, ask her,” the boys said.
Then a boy her age called her name. “Louise! Do you want to do go
the Young Judaea dance with me?”
Although flattered, Louise shook her head. “Na,” she said. “It’s not for
us. It’s for the older kids.”
“No,” he insisted. “My friends and I are all going. There will be lots
of people our age.”
“My mother will never let me,” she said.
“I’ll speak to her,” he promised.
He followed Louise home. “May I take your daughter to a dance?” he
“Sure, she can go. I don’t care,” Clara said to Louise’s great surprise
and disappointment. But Louise was not keen on going. No excuses left,
Louise dressed for the dance hosted by the Young Judaea organization.
Her heart sank when they reached the dance floor. The music was
playing, vibrant songs that made her want to dance. But all the dancing
couples were three or four years older than Louise. Her date’s friends, who
had promised to come as well, had all backed out.
This was going to be a big problem—dance protocol was to begin the
dance with the date you came with. Then while the dance is in progress,
another young boy would “cut in,” tapping the date on his shoulder and
ask the girl to continue dancing with him. The popular girls would have
lines of boys waiting for their turn to dance, and a girl at least would want
to end the dance with a different partner than she started with.
Louise’s heart sank to her toes at the thought of being the only girl
ending the dance with her original partner. Surely, none of these older boys
would dance with a young girl.
Only minutes into the dance, one of Freddie’s friends tapped Louise’s
date on his shoulder and took her hand to dance. Then another boy broke
in. And another. A steady stream of boys cut in on her dance, all of them
Freddie’s friends, boys four or five years older than Louise.
She passed Freddie on the dance floor, and he smiled at her. And she
knew Freddie had organized all his friends to give his kid sister a good
dance, a fun time, and self-esteem that walked out of the room not only
intact but a few notches higher.