2. Does it feel like an endless stream of sitting? Is that what it feels like to be her? She sits for a sneak-preview screening of “The Host” at the AMC Loews in Georgetown, and the next morning she sits in a Ritz-Carlton hotel room undergoing a steady drip of journalists, and then she sits at the book signing at Politics & Prose, where attendees are limited to two autographs at a time, but then loop through the line again and again and again.
“It’s always interesting, the relationship between reader and writer,” she says at the hotel. “I spend a year working on a novel and another year editing it. They spend one day reading it, and they’re ready for more.”
3. At some point in the past five years, her hair got really good. Stunningly, shinily good. What is in her conditioner? Avocado? Also her skin. Up close and personal, it looks like the texture of semigloss paint.
4. This new movie, “The Host.” Is it good? It’s about a woman named Melanie, one of the last “wild humans” in a future society in which most people’s bodies have been taken over by an alien species. When Melanie also succumbs, she must fight for control over her own person and future. It stars Saoirse Ronan, with several achingly pretty boys — two of whom have come to Washington with Meyer, and one of whom is Jeremy Irons’s son. It’s beautifully filmed, and infinitely more adult and more complex than any of the “Twilight” stories.
At the screening, people want to talk about the “Twilight” stories.
Is she ever going to finish “Midnight Sun,” the “Twilight” companion novel that she abandoned after it was accidentally leaked to the public in 2008? Everrrr?
5. Her fans are so pure. When she walks in a room, the fans go — oh, you already know what they go. Everybody already knows what happens at a Stephenie Meyer appearance. The fans go “Eeee!” or “Squeee!” or “Bleeee!”; the fans burst into tears and explain their obsessive love for “Twilight.” Sometimes a journalist who brags that he’s too smart for “Twilight” (even though he’s never read it) parachutes in to write a scene story about these women, and they open up their hopeful hearts because maybe this time he won’t make them look crazy. He always makes them look crazy.
“I do a lot of deep breathing,” Meyer says. This is how she adjusts to the decibel level of a public appearance. She’s grown more used to it now. The public appearances used to make her nervous. She used to pep-talk herself: “I am going to live through this. Nobody is going to kill you today.”