a beautiful woman walks out to the stage, places two bottles of water on a table between two brownish, reddish leather arm chairs.
a tromp l’oeil behind the chairs – an opera is in town – looks like a long, cubist hallway and a black door at the top of stairs.
khaled hosseini is visibly nervous. the large, gorgeous bass hall is as crowded as if a tony-winning musical was in town. khaled looks around like everyone isn’t supposed to be here. he is just a simple doctor who wrote books in the wee hours because he enjoyed it. his wife forced him to send his books into the world. he never wanted this fame.
he looks around, and he is even more nervous than the young women that come to the microphones to ask him questions with trembling voices.
best quote of the evening for aspiring authors: “when you can’t hear yourself in the dialogue, you know you’re doing well.”
if you want to know more, you should go to events like this for yourself.