Ten strangers came to my house, which is not how most things begin if you are trying to control them. If control is the goal, you start smaller. You soften the variables. You invite one person, maybe two, and you make sure they already like you. You create conditions in which approval is almost guaranteed, or at least gently implied.

But this was an Airbnb Experience, which, for those who have not yet fallen down that particular rabbit hole, does not mean people are staying overnight. It means they come to experience something local, something specific to a place, as if you could bottle the spirit of an area and offer it in two hours. In our case, the offering was storytelling. A class on beginnings. What makes a great beginning in a novel, a memoir, a television show, a screenplay? It is a bold claim to stand in front of 10 people who have paid money and say, in essence, I know how things should begin. It is even bolder when the “Hollywood experience” appears to be a woman in her backyard, hoping the succulents are pulling their weight.

Because that is also part of the pitch. This is Hollywood. This is meant to feel, at least in theory, like a brush with something insider, something creative, something you could not get just anywhere. And I could feel myself wondering, as they arrived, if this counted. Should there be more gloss? More spectacle? A director’s chair, perhaps, with someone’s name stenciled on the back. A stray actor wandering through with a protein shake.

Instead, there was me, my husband, Jim, 10 folding chairs, and a backyard porch at three in the afternoon.

I could feel myself scanning their faces as they settled in, trying to read them in real time. Were they disappointed? Were they expecting more Hollywood? Should someone be holding a clipboard? Should I be wearing something more........

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