How Not to Calm a Child on a Plane (39 page)

For their generous time and excellent advice in this alien land known as publishing: Nia Vardalos, Emmy Laybourne, Brett Paesel, Claire Zulkey, Jen Coffeen, Kara Corridan, and Rich (“What What?”) Fulcher.

To Story Studio Chicago, the Writers Workspace, and the WGA (for that fantastic office space with the couch that is comfy, but not overly so).

To the writing teachers who stoked my love of words and kicked my ass as they did: Amy Friedman, Neil Besner, Mr. Carruthers, and the lovely Joanie Fridell. Thanks for your enthusiasm, your dedication, and your excellent teaching. (And if you don't like what you've seen in this book, blame it on one of the other teachers who undid all of your hard work.)

To my friends and family in Winnipeg, Chicago, Austin, Calgary, New York, L.A, and beyond . . . I am one lucky so-and-so. Thanks for your encouraging words and stimulating ideas over coffee, wine, meals, and snacks (lots and lots of snacks). Thanks for your letters, e-mails
and Facebook posts (the forwards, the likes, and the shares . . . oh, the shares). There are too many of you to mention by name, but I am grateful for you all, and the next time I see you, if I suddenly lay on you a too-tight hug or a wet, sloppy kiss—you'll know why.

And to Jay Leggett and Dave (Big Dave) Marks, two fine fellas who left way too soon: you are both missed, often and very much.

To Walt, Gail, Aaron, and David Stein: even if you weren't my family, I probably would have chosen to spend my days hanging out at your house (as creepy as that would have been). Mom and Dad, I'm grateful for your excellent and insightful feedback, not just on this book but on pretty much every creative endeavor I've ever taken on. Thanks for giving me a childhood worth remembering and writing about, and for your continued help and advice now that I'm the one doing the “parenting” (even if that word sticks in your respective craws).

To my in-laws Christine and Cliff, Bob and Susan, and Paul—for your humor, your acceptance, and for giving me the single greatest score of my life. I'm not sure what I did to deserve David Gassman (maybe the result of some karmic debt I incurred sometime in the fourteenth century?) . . . In any case, thank you.

To David, my BFF with benefits, for taking care of business when I was lost in my laptop screen; for allowing me to dig deep into that big, creative brain of yours, and for taming the snakes in mine; for believing in and loving me so well through this whole process; and for
making me laugh every single g.d. day. You truly are the wind beneath my flappy batwings.

And finally, to Sadie, who inspired it all. I hit the life jackpot the day I became your mom. I know everybody thinks their kid is special, but just between you and me—in your case, it's true. It's a privilege to know you, and a joy to watch you grow. I love you with all my heart (and then some). Now go clean up your room.