Chapter 22
The moment had finally arrived: Daniel’s press event was about to begin.
Penny cast her anxious gaze over the bookstore’s meeting space, making sure everything was ready.
The podium had been delivered moments ago from the community center and stood directly beneath the Charles Dickens banner.
Hopefully, the banner’s message — “I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.” — would end up matching what Daniel said in his speech.
Five rows of seats faced the podium and all them were already filled, including by Hettie Mae, Donald, and Eva in the front row.
Behind the seats stood a row of TV news cameras with crewmen and reporters getting their equipment set up.
Around them, squeezed into every available inch of space, was a standing-room crowd of curious onlookers.
The Tattered Page was, in a word, packed.
Penny glanced at her watch. It was almost time. Stepping to the podium, she switched on the microphone, tapped it to make sure it was working, and said, “Everyone, we’ll be starting in about two minutes.”
Heart fluttering, she slipped through the crowd to the front of the bookstore, then climbed the winding metal stairs to the attic office, where Daniel had been holed up since lunch, putting the finishing touches on his speech.
She poked her head into the attic and found him at her desk, still scribbling away.
“It’s time,” she said. “You ready?”
He looked up. “As ready as I’m gonna be.” With a smile, he rose to his feet and headed down behind her.
“Quite the turnout,” she said as they weaved through the crowded store.
“Good,” he said. “The more the merrier.” His voice sounded confident and calm. If he was nervous, he wasn’t showing it.
As they neared the podium, the room took notice. Cameras flipped on, reporters opened their notebooks, and folks in the audience started whispering and gesturing.
Penny turned to give Daniel a final inspection. He’d dressed simply for the occasion in dark dress shoes, dark slacks, and a dark blue sweater over a white collared dress shirt.
“You know what you’re going to say?” she asked.
“I do.”
“Give me a hint. Are you joining Team Christmas?”
A small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re about to find out.”
“Okay, show me your teeth,” she said.
His brow furrowed. “You want me to smile?”
“I want to make sure you don’t have something stuck in them.”
Amused, he gave her a big smile.
“Pearly whites looking good.”
He remained still for a few seconds, his eyes not leaving hers. “Thank you, Penny,” he said quietly. “For everything.”
“You’re very welcome,” she said briskly, pushing back a rush of emotion. “Now get up there. You’ve got this.”
With a nod, he stepped to the podium and tapped the microphone.
“Good afternoon,” he said to the room. “I’d like to begin by thanking Penny Quinn and her team at this wonderful independent bookstore, The Tattered Page, for hosting this event today.
I’d also like to thank all of you for coming here.
I’ll begin with a statement, and after finishing my statement, I’ll be happy to answer your questions. ”
He took a deep breath and began. “My name is Daniel Bedford. I’m a writer of fiction — novels, mostly — and the occasional piece of nonfiction.
Four weeks and three days ago, I published an essay in The New York Journal about Christmas, an essay that generated a whole lot of attention from a whole lot of folks, who then had a whole lot of questions for me that I’ve avoided answering until today.
“The question I’ve been asked most, and avoided most, over the past few weeks, is this: What in the world led me to write and publish my essay?”
He took in the room — the audience filling every available seat, the folks standing behind them, the row of news cameras — and continued.
“Here is my answer in full, every detail included. I wrote the essay because I got the idea to write it, which I realize sounds circular but isn’t.
For me, the creative process is about ideas finding me rather than the other way around.
When an idea shows up, it’s my responsibility to pay attention.
This particular notion came out of a conversation six weeks ago with my buddy Will.
We were at a pub, enjoying a beer, talking sports — we’re both basketball nuts — and I had just gone on an extended tear, or maybe you’d call it an extended appreciation, or maybe we should call it what it really was, an extended rant, about the virtues of college hoops and how spending an entire weekend watching games nonstop is basically the peak of the human experience, when Will mentioned that his wife had just started her yearly tradition of bingeing Christmas movies, which led to us diving into the business of Christmas and the holiday’s commercialization. ”
Daniel paused to make sure he had the audience’s attention, which he most definitely he did.
“Maybe because we were at a pub, and maybe because we were in, shall we say, a relaxed and expansive state of mind, I found myself getting pretty wound up about the Christmas commercialization topic.
I started going at it from every angle I could think of, and yes, I even found myself vowing to do something about it.
I mean, if that pub had a soapbox, I would have climbed on top of it and announced my intentions to the world.
“So Will, who’s an editor at The New York Journal and knows a publishing opportunity when he sees one, said, ‘Dan, if you write an article about this, we’ll publish it.’”
Daniel paused. “So all of this is his fault.”
Surprised chuckles swept through the audience.
“Which, to be crystal-clear, isn’t the case at all, but rather just me attempting, no doubt poorly, to make a joke.
So allow me to state clearly and for the record: My essay is mine — wholly, fully, solely — and responsibility for it resides with me and me alone.
As one of our great presidents, Harry Truman, said, ‘The buck stops here.’”
He cleared his throat and continued. “It took me two weeks to research and write the essay. While I was writing it, I felt great about it. I felt the same when I sent the essay to the Journal, when I reviewed and approved their edits, and when I gave them the okay to publish it. I meant every word of what I wrote. I published the essay with complete sincerity. I’d done my research.
I’d gathered my facts. I’d marshaled my arguments.
I knew, with utter conviction, that what I was saying was right.
“And for the first couple of days, as the essay gained traction, I was pleased by the response. It was gratifying to see my message getting out there.
“But then,” he said, “as everyone here knows, the situation escalated. The essay started attracting even more attention — and not the kind I was expecting. TV talking heads were commenting on it. Articles were getting written about it. Folks were posting about it on social media. I’d never gone viral before — yet viral I went.
” (In the front row, Penny saw Hettie Mae give Donald a nudge, which he ignored.) “And while, to be clear, some of the attention was on the substance of the argument I was making, most of the attention was on me and several of the sweeping statements I made.
“In the days that followed, as I became the focus of a media frenzy, I responded by doing what a lot of folks do when they’re challenged: I doubled down.
I can be pretty stubborn, and believe me, during those days when it seemed like the entire world had a bone to pick with me, I wasn’t ready to listen.
So against the advice of pretty much everyone in my life, I refused to offer any further comment.
I told my agent, my publisher, my friends, my family, that I’d already said what I wanted to say in the essay and that was that. ”
He let out a sigh. “If, in that moment, I’d allowed even an ounce of common sense into this stubborn head of mine, I might have realized that stonewalling the media would only intensify the situation. But did I realize that? No, I did not.
“So I’m here today to do what I should have done sooner: Answer your questions, address your concerns, and be as open, clear, and forthright with you as I can be.”
Penny felt the sincerity behind his words, and sensed that the rest of his audience did, too.
“Before we get to your questions,” he continued, “I’d like to share three regrets I have about publishing my essay.
The first regret is that my actions led to my publisher and agent getting pulled into this.
They had no idea the essay existed before it came out and had no say, no input, no role in publishing it.
To their credit, they realized, well before I did, that I would need to do something about the mess I found myself in.
They’re the ones who came up with a plan to immerse me in Christmas and who pushed, urged, cajoled, persuaded me to agree to that plan.
For their efforts on my behalf and for their friendship and support, I am grateful.
And to them, I say: I’m sorry I caused you stress and heartache.
The next time I have a great idea about how to modify a cherished national tradition, I promise I’ll run the idea by you first.”
He took a deep breath, then continued. “My second regret is that the essay upset a lot of people, including a lot of readers of my books.
Upsetting folks was not my intent. I believed I was making a common-sense argument.
I hoped to start a discussion about cutting back on the commercial aspects of the holiday.
“Obviously, that hope was not realized. Most people who heard about my essay heard about it from news organizations and social media, and most of what got shared wasn’t the essay itself but rather samples, slices, interpretations of it.
“I should have realized the inevitability of that. I should have anticipated that, in today’s information ecosystem, my essay would get turned into sound bites, memes, and commentary.
In a world that lives and dies by the click, it’s inevitable that ‘Daniel Bedford has problems with the over-commercialization of Christmas’ would be simplified to ‘Daniel Bedford hates Christmas.’”
He took a deep breath. “As tempted as I am to blame the media and social media companies for this state of affairs, blaming them wouldn’t be entirely fair. When you toss red meat at a ravenous beast, the beast is gonna bite.
“No, the party who deserves the blame is me — for not realizing how my essay would be transformed and amplified.
“So to everyone who loves Christmas and is upset about my essay, I’d like to apologize for causing you distress. I should have anticipated how my essay would be repurposed and how what you heard about it might upset you. I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me.”
From her spot near the podium, Penny had a good view of the entire room. It was hard to tell how Daniel’s words were landing — she doubted the reporters were entirely comfortable with his critique of their profession — but he definitely had everyone’s complete attention.
“My third regret — my most important regret — isn’t about how the essay was communicated or who it upset, but about the essay itself and the argument I made. As mentioned earlier, when I published the essay, I believed my essay was right. I was fully prepared to stand behind every word I wrote.”
The audience leaned forward. Finally, the moment they’d been waiting for. Was Daniel Bedford about to disavow his essay?