The Art of Asking; or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Let People Help

Acknowledgments

This book, much like my TED talk and other aspects of my life, was a crowdsourced effort.

I wrote it very fast and asked for a shit-ton of help. I will try to keep this entertaining so you’ll actually read it.

First and foremost, I feel like my team gets slightly short-shrifted in this book, because it was way less complicated to write certain parts without including the gory details of how things function in AmandaLand. But so much of my work would be impossible without the small, dedicated collection of people who have my back every single day as I head off to work.

Case in point: the midnight-doorbell that I rang on the Lower East Side was only rung because Hayley Rosenblum, Queen Of Crowd Liaisons and longtime member of my office, was furiously scanning Twitter for good couchsurfing offers while I was on stage, stuck in a conjoined twin dress with Jason Webley. Hayley, you’re a constant godsend.

My assistant, SuperKate Slepicka, was and is an indispensable part of my life and of this writing process. And is, as I write, double-checking the list of people who test-read this book and sending me reminder emails. SuperKate, I cannot thank you enough for being the ongoing, unshakeable, and unsung hero of my daily existence.

Eric Sussman started as a Dresden Dolls intern, became our tour manager, and now sits at the helm of the ship, steering and managing the rough and troubled waters of my whole, crazy business. He helped with this book enormously not just by reminding me (three times, in some cases) how much this-and-that Kickstarter package cost, but by holding down the fort and minding the shop while I Dropped Off The Face Of The Earth to write. Fist to chest, Eric.

And last but not least, Sean Francis has been with me longer than anybody. He has been my megaphone, my blog editor, my brain champion since the very beginning, my soul brother in constant, late-night, why-the-fuck-not ideas. Sean, I have no words. You know me like nobody else.

I’d like to thank everybody who backed the Kickstarter. Without you, this book may not ever have existed… or not quite like this.

I asked for help on Twitter (and on my blog, and on Facebook) relentlessly while writing every draft of this book. If you were there, you saw.

If I could list the number of Twitter, blog, and Facebook commenters that contributed to this book, even just for a word (I often went to Twitter as a hive-thesaurus, looking for a way to describe a concept), it would probably cover ten pages. I also went to the blog with questions and discussions that I sometimes used in the book, but more importantly, you guys inspired my brain and showed me patterns, presented great arguments, and went on this whole philosophical ride with me. Again, if you were there, you know who you are. To all of you on my blog and feeds, day in and day out, thank you. ((((((((((()))))))))). <3. no, <4. and for good measure, ))<>((.

David Shaw rescued us a few times with last-minute technical support. Thank you, David.

I don’t like to write in quiet places. I like to be around people. I started writing this book in a bar and finished it in a café. At this moment, I’m sitting at a wooden table in the McNally Jackson bookstore in New York City, nursing a cortado. I consumed a cubic-house worth of espresso and wine while writing this book, and darkened the corners of dozens of establishments, and I’d very much like to thank the ones I darkened frequently. In Melbourne: Arcadia, Grub Food Van, Atomica (who got an A+ for music selection, causing me to often dance while writing), Polly, Vegie Bar, 1880, Southpaw, Storm in a Teacup, and Thousand Pound Bend. In San Diego, where I traveled twice to work with Jamy The Book Doula, we owe thanks to Better Buzz and even greater thanks to the Hotel del Coronado, who saw me asking for crash space in the area and raised their hands, giving me the most opulent surf of all time, plus nice corners to write in. In NYC, many hours were spent in Cafe Gitane in SoHo, and many hours were spent here in McNally Jackson. And in Cambridge, there is only beloved Cafe Pamplona. Get the white gazpacho. It’s incredible, it has grapes in it. (Unless it’s winter; get the garlic soup.)

My housemates at the Cloud Club: Lee Barron our hermit-y captain, Michael Pope, Cassandra Long, Tristan Allen, Steve Martin (no, not that Steve Martin), Mali Sastri, Vessela Stoyanova, and Nate Greenslit—I really love all of you. Thank you for being my Art Family. And long live the Mystery Aesthetic.

Right as I was about to leave for Australia to work on the book, I walked into Trident, an independent bookstore in Boston, to use their bathroom. They’d laid Daring Greatly by Brené Brown out on the staff picks table. I’d seen her TED talk about vulnerability and loved it, so I picked up the book, figuring I’d probably have no time to read it. I toted it along to Australia, started reading it a few weeks into my own writing, and was completely shocked to see that she’d basically written my book for me—except from an academic perspective. When I got to the part where she quoted The Velveteen Rabbit, I gave up. I sent a text to my editor and literary agents saying BRENÉ BROWN HAS RUINED MY LIFE. SHE ALREADY WROTE MY BOOK. AND SHE STOLE MY RABBIT. But then I realized I should just take Rabbits and make Rabbitade. I invited her to write the foreword. Brené, thank you so, so very much. The work and research you are doing is changing the world.

On that note, this book would not have happened the way it did without TED. I’d like to thank Thomas Dolby for helping get my foot in the door for the original gig, and Bill Bragin, music connector extraordinaire, for advocating on my behalf. And I’d like to thank Chris Anderson, Mr. TED, who pushed me to say more than I wanted to say, but that made everything work. All the other incredibly inspiring friends, writers, and thinkers I’ve discovered and/or befriended—especially Jill Bolte-Taylor, Danny Hillis, Shane Koyczan, JR, Aimee Mullins, Dan Pallotta, Ron Finley, and Amy Cuddy—have all influenced and/or encouraged this book. I feel really lucky to have stumbled into this world. So thank you, Chris, and everyone working at TED, for everything you’re doing.

I owe a huge amount of thanks to everybody who’s ever hosted me—and the general list is too long for this book—but I’d like to thank a select few people who have gone above and beyond, or have given me a home and safe harbor while I was working on this book in particular. Danny and Pati Hillis not only opened their doors to me, but to my extended staff and friends, and are couch-hosts of the highest caliber (but also, we traded when Danny decided to move into OUR house for a while, so it’s a fair trade all the way). Felix and Michelle popped into my life by answering a Twitter couch-call for a single night and I don’t think any of us could have predicted that I’d be staying in their apartment for an entire week a few years later, writing about that very experience while listening to their Philip Glass vinyl collection on repeat. Thank you, guys. Thanks to Malcolm and Elaine for the Brighton crash space, the company, and the stories. The Cunningham/Siggs in Edinburgh have become a second family, as have John and Judith Clute in London. Kyle Cassidy, thanks for being as generous as you are with your house and your art. Thanks to Pascaline Lepeltier for giving copious amounts of wine and company to so many of us. Lance Horne, you’ve inspired pieces of this book and hosted parts of its creation in your kibbutz. Thank you.

In Melbourne, Peter Nicholls and Clare Coney have given me a real, true Australian home and made me part of their family, and I’m profoundly grateful. Rose Chong (and her employees, the Chongettes) in Collingwood have become another Home—thank you, Rose; you’re another patron of Kindness and Random Beauty.

My Los Angeles family: Uncle Doug and Rita, thanks for letting us park in your house in LA while we edited, and for support and help over the years. Cousins Katherine and Robert, thanks for your always having a bed and a cookie for me when I come through town.

Melissa Auf der Maur has become a friend, cheerleader, couch-host and conspirator, thanks to an Icelandic Ashcloud and Twitter. Melissa, thank you.

Zoë Keating, my touring mate and confidant, is a constant source of inspiration to me at every level. Zoë, thank you.

Meow Meow, you are my mostly companion. Thank you for being my friend in Melbourne and beyond.

(And all three of you should hang out together. Please invite me. I’ll bring wine.)

Jason Webley is always just the answer to everything. Thank you, Jason, for connecting the dots of my life before I even see them.

I wrote about a LOT of people in this book, including Jason, and I tracked most of them down for permission. They helped me get the facts straight, and in some cases they even rewrote their own dialogue. I hope I don’t miss anybody. If I do, come yell at me for the next edition of the book. Gina Barrett was the TED speaker coach who I mention at the start of the book. E. Stephen Frederick, you’re a Bride-Napper. Gus, may Toscanini’s flourish forever (I still suggest you try my idea for a flavor called “Allied Invasion,” containing chocolate, poppy seeds, rubble, and tears). Kathleen Hanna, thank you for letting me use your story. You’re a Great Force in this world. Rob Chalfen, fish sometime soon. Alina Simone and Josh Knobe, thank you for being my oldest friends. Jacky, thank you, and thank your mum. Blake, thank you for sharing your statue reflections.

Edward Ka-Spel, you’re still my hero. Let’s make a record. Hera and Indiana, may we all meet in Iceland someday. Ron Nordin, thank you for helping me and so many other artists. You’re a class act. Tom Wethern and Steve Gisselbrecht, until the next chocolate party. Beth Hommel, thank you for years of help. Emily White, thank you for your help as well and… are you sure you don’t want another beer? And to Lorraine Garland and Cat Mihos, thank you for all the help you’ve given himself over the years, and, by default, to me. Frank Chimero and Maciej Cegłowski, thank you for leading me to Walden Pond and the donuts that awaited me there. Xanthea O’Connor? Take the fucking donuts. Sam Buckingham? Remind her, please. Ground control to Kim Boekbinder, may the force be with you. Thanks to Max Temkin for helping me out with John Campbell’s story. Dear, dear Karen Mantler—expect the worst, accept the worst, demand the worst!!! At Kickstarter HQ, thanks are due to Yancey Strickler and Fred Benenson, for arming me with the facts (and an incredible tool). Josh Ente, thanks for letting me interview you, and thank you for being an awesome person. Courtnee, thank you for allowing me to share our moment with the world. And Yana… you’ve been brave to begin with but so fucking brave to let me share our story in this book. Thank you.

To Ayelet Waldman and Michael Chabon, thank you not only for letting us get hitched at your house, but for letting me camp out and edit my last draft. And thanks to the Harvard Lampoon for providing me an editing office, Katy Perry, and some bourbon.

I’ve been given real gifts on a deep level from my many, many yoga teachers, especially from the Baptiste family: Baron, Gregor, Claire, Troy, Pilar, and Emily… namaste, motherfuckers. And right near home, thanks to Glen Cunningham at Sadhana for constant reminders to stay awake and compassionate with myself and everyone else.

I’d like to give a cosmic shout-out to all my musical collaborators, without whom I’d never have done anything, especially my musical soul-brother Brian Viglione. Thank you for years of inspiration, Brian. Sloth Power. And to the Grand Theft Orchesta: Michael McQuilken, Thor Harris, Chad Raines, Jherek Bischoff, and our producer, John Congleton. Thank you, guys, so much for making music with me. The Danger Ensemble: Steven, Lyndon, Tora, Kat, Peta, Katie, Mark… thank you for the art. And my regular touring crew over the years: Jaron “Steak” Luksa, Dave “Psycho” Hughes, Jeff Maker (dot com), Laura Keating, and Katie Kay… thank you for all the support on the road. I’d like to thank Felice, Vickie, Kevin, Aleix, Sarah, Dana, Damien, Jessica, and Jared at Girlie Action for going on the Kickstarter adventure: thank you, guys, for everything you did to help us. Ditto for Mike, Nick, Machete, and everyone at Famehouse. Art-felt thanks to Andrew Nelson for creating such beautiful Kickstarter packaging. Thanks to Wes for years of merchandising help. Matt Hickey has been my faithful booking agent for over ten years, and without him I’d be lost. Thank you, Matt. Huge thanks as well to Bex Majors, who books me in Europe. And thanks to Ted Harris, who keeps me on the right side of the law.

I owe MASSIVE thanks to the people who actually test-read sections of this book and provided valuable feedback, caught errors, suggested changes, and saved my ass from saying the right thing the wrong way or the wrong thing the wrong way or whatever you know what I mean. Seth Godin went above and beyond the call of duty in suggesting cuts and tweaks to the first draft of the manuscript. Thank you so, so much, Seth. I don’t know why you’re so goddamn nice. Jason Webley and Michael Pope saved me from myself in several spots. Maria Popova, Kambriel, Len Tower Jr., Lisa Oberteuffer, Andrew O’Neill, Cormac Bride, Mike Masnick, Whitney Moses, Kandace Schultz, and Bob Rosenthal all provided heartfelt encouragement and insight. Seriously, I cannot thank all of you enough for slaving on such a tight schedule to help me make this book. Thank you.

A lot of artists—helmed by the cover photographer, Allan Amato—contributed to the painting/party that culminated in the cover of this book.

Thank you to Geeta Dayal for all her encouragement in the author department.

I want to thank Ben Folds for constantly encouraging my writing and being an awesome friend.

And I want to thank Steve Albini. Just because I can. Here’s a hug, Steve Albini.

This book also would not have been A Real Book if I hadn’t had the help of literary agent Merrilee Heifetz at Writers House, who has lovingly held my hand while I traipsed into BookLand. Many thanks to you and to Sarah Nagel for all the work you’ve done.

Emily Griffin, my editor at Grand Central, has been the picture of patience and understanding while I’ve wrestled with this thing, and was the first one to come to me after the TED talk was released, asking BOOK? You’re holding the answer in your hands, Emily. Thank you for all the love, work, thoughts, and edits you’ve poured into this book. Your faith in me is not taken for granted. Thank you, thank you. And to Megan Gerrity, our production editor, and to all of the team at Hachette who are putting this book onto shelves—Jimmy Franco, my publicist, and all the people in the art department—thank you.

Fiona, thank you for being the picture of patience while I slaved on my edits… your help and love means more than you know.

My parents, the whole wonderful motley collection of them: Kathy, John, Jack, Donna, Elaine… thank you all for raising me, helping me, and taking care of me, all in your own ways. I love you. And to my sisters Alyson and Lisa, thank you for sharing your stories and lives with me. I love you both. And to my half brother, Alex, and my brothers-in-law, Cees and Todd: I love you guys. To my stepchildren Maddy, Holly, and Mike… I love you, too.

To Anthony, and Laura: our hearts and our stories are entwined. I love you both so much.

Jamy Ian Swiss came into my life shortly before I was invited to TED and offhandedly offered to give me a hand with my talk. When I called him up and shared my initial ideas and first drafts, he dug in, and hasn’t left my side since. His role as my Unofficial Talk Doula—sometimes staying on the phone for three hours while we hammered out the perfect way to put things—expanded into his role as my Official Book Doula. Together we sat at tables, flew back and forth across America several times, talked on phones, shared drafts, cut ideas, added ideas, and cut them again. He went over every single sentence in this book with a fine-tooth comb and has been an absolutely indispensable and essential part of this process. Kandace, his partner, was incredibly understanding as we worked weeks, then months, later than originally scheduled. Thank you, Kandace. And Jamy: I cannot thank you enough for your work on this book. It means everything to me.

And lastly.

My husband, Neil Gaiman, not only allowed me to put the intimate details of our marriage into the blender of this book on a low setting, he encouraged me, advised me, held me, and propped me up—and let me go away, when I needed it—through every single phase of the writing process. He took my first manuscript, pen in hand, and suggested massive cuts. I trusted him and, for the most part, took every suggestion. He put his own writing-life on hold for the last, mad week of the book edit, helping me to birth the very last draft when every hour counted. This book would not be the same without him, at any level.

Neil, you are the love of my life.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.