Page 78 of A Storybook Wedding

“Whatever works,” he says. “Anyway. You have your reading?”

“Yup. I’ve got two copies printed out in this folder and a backup on my phone.”

“Why two copies?”

“I don’t know. Just want to be prepared, I guess.”

“In case what? A sudden hurricane blows through the Spiritual Sanctuary and sweeps your reading up with it?”

I smirk. “Wise guy.”

“You’re prepared for anything, I guess.”

“You know it.”

We finish getting ourselves together and bundle into our coats to walk to the sanctuary at 7:15 p.m. The ceremony begins at 7:30, but they’ve asked graduates, faculty members, and readers to arrive fifteen minutes early.

In the lobby of the sanctuary, Dillon Norway gives the group a quick reminder of how we ran through the program at rehearsal this afternoon. Of course, I didn’t have to read then. It was more Dillon Norway saying, Okay, Cecily, you’ll be seated over here, and then I’ll introduce you, and once I‘m done, I’ll invite you up onstage for your reading. He showed me which set of steps to use, how to adjust the mic and said that there would be a small bottle of water at the podium for each of the readers labeled with our names on them.

So yeah, the jitters are creeping in.

The other two readers and I are told to take our seats—the front pew on the left side has been labeled Reserved for us. I walk carefully in my heels, holding my folder. The sanctuary reminds me of a small church—it’s wide but only goes back about a dozen rows. The graduates—all nine of them this semester—will be sitting in the front pew on the right side of the stage, and faculty (of which there are about twenty in total) will be seated all across the front pews. Everything else is open season for family members and other guests.

The space is quite full too. Surprisingly, people have traveled far and wide to be here, despite the residual ice on the roads from the storm the other day. It’s warmed up several degrees for the occasion, a balmy thirty-five, but at least the ground isn’t completely frozen over. There’s a camera set up on a tripod in the middle of the aisle, facing the podium, and a small table, chair, and laptop set up in the back, directly behind it.

I try not to fidget, taking care not to bite my nails or do anything else that could appear juvenile. Finally, the music begins to play, and all heads turn to the back of the room. We onlookers stand as “Pomp and Circumstance” floats in the air around us, causing a swell in my chest (not sure why, but it’s one of those songs that has that special power), and the faculty members file into the space, led by Dillon Norway, who looks almost regal in his garb. Nate winks at me as he passes by, and it comforts my nerves a little. It’s crazy to think how different this residency has been from my last one. This time around, I feel like I am part of this tapestry of humans, and even though I am maybe somewhat of a zoo animal in that I’m married to Nate and I’m the only one here who’s in the process of seeking representation for a manuscript that I completed in just one semester, there’s beauty in the striving, and I am part of a journey that we are all on as authors and creators.

Graduations are filled with optimism, just like me.

I watch in awe as Dillon Norway invites us all to be seated, then welcomes everyone to the fifteenth annual commencement ceremony of Matthias University’s MFA program. He recognizes the dean, acknowledges the graduates, and shares his own musings on the passage of time, growth, and evolution. He evokes spectacular metaphors, and his language is eloquent in a way that mine will never be. In this moment, I feel particularly privileged to be under his tutelage.

He begins to share the details of the Rising Star Program, and I feel my stomach start to clench. He told us the order would go fiction (me), creative nonfiction, and then poetry. So I’m the opening act.

I try to calm my breathing as I listen to his words.

“It’s now my pleasure to introduce Cecily Jane Allerton-Ellis, the winner of our Rising Star award in the fiction category. I’ve worked with her for the past semester and am privileged to do so again this coming semester. Her high energy, laser-beam ambition, and bright enthusiasm to write and learn have—in a very short time—made her one of my role models.”

Wow. My breath catches. That is one of the highest compliments I’ve ever been paid.

“I’ve been very impressed by both the quality and quantity of her work,” Dillon Norway continues, “as well as the voluminous research she’s undertaken in just the first semester of her MUMFA career to learn as much as possible about book publishing, with an emphasis on finding an agent. She’s figured out early in her MFA career what she wants to accomplish and has since worked single-mindedly toward the goal of writing publishable, popular novels. Her goal is not only to become published but to have a lasting career as an author. She wrote an entire novel this past semester, as she has expressed to me that she plans to do each semester for the duration of her participation in MUMFA. Four semesters, four novels. Her work ethic is unparalleled. She writes crisp commercial fiction, fast paced and lively, with memorable characters and situations and surprising but credible plot twists that reveal what those characters are made of. Her first book, Hard Pass, is both entertaining and enlightening and would seldom fail to be interesting to the audience she seeks to enthrall.” He pauses to take a sip of water.

“Professionally, Cecily is a children’s librarian in one of the branches of the Queens Public Library in New York City; that is, she makes a living by encouraging young people to embrace the vast world of literature. Sometimes, acquaintances or new friends are surprised to learn how deeply informed this bouncy, articulate, hyper-organized, unflappably good young woman is about the world and its conflicts, biases, and many problems. It would be difficult to put into words how enjoyable it’s been to work with Cecily this past semester and to see her grow as a writer in such a short time.”

He smiles before finishing up this, the loveliest speech I’ve ever heard. “On a personal note, I encouraged Cecily to dip her toes in the vast pool of the literary world and was unsurprised to find that she cannonballed directly into the deep end, where she inadvertently captured the heart of an esteemed PEN Award winner, our own professor Nate Ellis. Their marriage will keep her treading water out there, sustaining the life of an author just by being in one’s constant stead as his wife. However, I have no doubt that Cecily will blaze her own trail with the same rigor and fire as Nate, if not more so. Friends, please welcome Cecily Jane Allerton-Ellis.”

Applause follows, and I approach the podium. Dillon Norway hands me a certificate, and we take a picture together. Then he takes a seat. I open my folder and clear my throat.

“Good evening, esteemed colleagues. Thank you, Dillon, for such a lovely introduction.”

I look out at the sea of faces. My rational brain knows that it’s a hundred—maybe a hundred twenty—people out there, but it feels like the whole world is watching me. Just a normal reading, like an open mic or something, would be nerve-racking enough. But this—well, let’s just say Dillon Norway isn’t wrong. I’m definitely an all-in kind of person. Cannonballing into the deep end, as he put it, is kind of my brand.

I remember Nate’s advice and seek out his face in the crowd. Just make sure you read slow enough, he told me. When you think the tempo seems right, slow it down even more. He smiles at me and gives me a little nod.

“This is the prologue of the manuscript I completed this past semester. It was a labor of love that was borne from personal experiences, which I’ve dramatized because it’s fiction, right? So that’s what you do.” A low rumble of laughs emanates from the audience. “People like to give new writers advice, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard the saying Write what you know. I came to this program as my own personal act of defiance. I was giving up on relationships: a revelation—or epiphany, whatever you want to call it—that came to me during my sister’s wedding. I finally had the opportunity to write about it, and the entire story spilled out in just one semester. Anyway, the following—which was my Rising Star submission—was a part of it. I hope you like it.”

Audience members shift in their seats, bracing themselves for the ride we’re about to go on together. They embody an energy that reminds me of story time on my magic carpet at the library. The only difference is these are grown-ups instead of kids, and I’d be hard-pressed to find a beagle puppy around here looking for a leg to relieve itself on.

I breathe. I smile. Here goes nothing.

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