Tom Fields-Meyer

In the spring of 2011, a few months before my first book was published, I emailed Julie to see if she’d meet with me. I didn’t know Julie well. I’d seen her onstage at the Schnitz and met her through my parents, who rarely missed a Portland Arts & Lectures event. I had learned, to my chagrin, that it was up to me, as a first-time author, to bring attention to my book. No fancy publicists. No built-in book tour. I emailed Julie to tell her I’d be visiting Portland from my home in L.A., and I asked if she’d meet with me to share some wisdom about book publicity. 

Her answer: “Yes yes yes. I would love to meet.”

That Friday morning at her office, Julie gave me a zillion ideas: authors to connect with, publicists to pursue (or ignore), what worked for this writer, what didn’t for that one. She talked. I took notes. I’m sure I used it all, but what I remember most clearly is that Julie connected me with someone at Powell’s—and followed up for me.

A few months later, on a gorgeous September evening exactly eleven years ago, at the Burnside store, I did a reading from my memoir FOLLOWING EZRA. My parents were there, my high-school journalism teacher, my childhood rabbi, my best friends from elementary school. For a writer from Portland, it was a dream come true. And it’s still one of my happiest memories.

I know I’m just one of many, many authors and artists and folks of all kinds who benefitted from Julie’s energy, enthusiasm, and faith. I’ll always be grateful for that hour I spent with her, for her vote of confidence, and for all she put into the world.

The next time someone asks me for a bit of wisdom, for a small favor, for a smidgen of encouragement, I’m going to see how it feels to pull a Mancini. I’m going to say yes. Three times.