(Read about the first half of my tape day in my previous post.)

I smiled when Ken read the categories for the Jeopardy! round:

WATER EVERYWHERE, BESTSELLING FICTION, EAT LIKE A BRIT, MOVIE TITLE ROLES, U.S. FESTIVALS, IT’S FROM THE GREEK FOR…

My opponents were formidable, but these topics were right in my wheelhouse.

After I was out-buzzed on the first two clues, I got my first question right, a $600 clue about Leon Uris’s book Exodus. I selected the next clue in the Bestselling Fiction category, the first Daily Double of the game. I was both excited to land on it and disappointed that I could only wager a maximum of $1,000 on a question in my best category: 

John Updike put his most famous character to bed in this 1990s bestseller that won a Pulitzer Prize

“Rabbit at Rest,” I answered without missing a beat. I then successfully buzzed in on the $1,000 question in the Movie Title Characters category, which asked for a Coen brothers film about a playwright. “What is B…” I began. And then, my mind blanked on Barton Fink. “Burn After Reading,” I said, grimacing.

The mistake rattled me. At home, I would have nailed the next two clues, but on stage I didn’t even hear Ken read them. I composed myself in time for a clue about an English pirate. I was about to ring in with Blackbeard.

Before appearing on the show, I had made several flashcards on Blackbeard. He was born Edward Teach in the seventeenth century. He captained the Queen Anne’s Revenge. I did not, however, learn this particular fact, about a festival named for him in Virginia. And so I moved my thumb away from the buzzer.

It was, of course, Blackbeard. 

I was unsure about the next clue (a British dish called “trotters”), so I didn’t buzz in. But after James incorrectly responded “sausage,” I noticed I was trailing and decided to take a stab. My instincts had been right so far. But my response of blood pudding was also wrong, knocking me down to zero.

I also second-guessed myself about the title of the Donald Trump biopic The Apprentice, forgoing another $800. Nabbing a $1,000 clue about the Coral Sea helped me recover by the commercial break, but I continued to beat myself up for fumbling my early lead. 

Then it was time for the contestant interviews. I had sent the production team dozens of anecdotes. I originally planned to talk about a traveling mishap or an amusing childhood tale, but at the last minute I changed my mind. If this was my only chance to go on Jeopardy!, I had to make it memorable.

So instead of talking about crashing a Burmese wedding, I recounted the story of how I once saved a man from drowning while I was skinny dipping. The audience (and later internet commenters) loved it.

When the game resumed, I attempted to buzz in on nine of the remaining twelve clues, correctly answering two but missing another two. I found myself in a distant third, $800 to Brian’s $5,000 and James’s $4,600.

During the second commercial break, I took a deep breath and reminded myself of advice from my friend Genevieve: stay grounded. When I found my boyfriend in the audience, he waved at me proudly. A ruling reversal on one of my responses nudged me back up to $1,200, restoring some of my confidence.

After Brian missed a brutal history Daily Double, I knew I had to find the last Daily Double to have a chance at winning. While aggressively searching for it, I racked up $5,200, moving me into a sizable first place lead. Then James finally buzzed in on a clue about yoga, taking control of the board and landing on the last Daily Double.

He bet it all. And he got it right. 

By this point, I was exhausted, and pulling out a victory seemed like a distant possibility. I started to zone out, and I didn’t buzz in enough. But I gathered my composure in time for a set of hard theatre clues. I continued to nab clues across the board, netting another $7,600.

And then, just as I was finding my rhythm on the buzzer and building my confidence, the round ended. 

The Final Jeopardy category was Authors’ Other Works. I had tracked my stats for dozens of practice games and had never missed a literature Final. A crew member handed us notecards to calculate our wagers on. I wrote down our scores: James had $18,800, I had $14,000, and Brian had $6,600.

My score was slightly more than twice Brian’s and just shy of three-fourths of James’s score. Having watched James play two games, I knew he was an aggressive wagerer. The correct move was to wager virtually nothing.

I wrote down $0, looked at my wager, and then crossed it out. If James wagered small, I’d never forgive myself for betting nothing in my favorite category. And I wanted viewers to know I wasn’t afraid to bet big. I almost wagered everything—if I won, an extra $14,000 would cover my rent for six months—but I decided to go with a safer $4,801 bet.

After I finished agonizing over my wager, Ken read the clue:

In an 1833 story by her, an alchemist’s assistant drinks a potion giving eternal life but ends up seeing all he loves die.

For a moment, I panicked. I didn’t know this short story. But then I saw the date: 1833. It had to be Mary Shelley. I jotted down my response and hoped for the best.

In the end, my suboptimal wager didn’t matter: we all answered correctly. James ended with a two-day total of $70,800 while Brian and I walked away with $2,000 and $3,000 consolation prizes, respectively.

So, to answer the question I posed at the beginning of this series: was all of this worth it? The study sessions, the online leagues, the buzzer drills, the creepy DMs I received after my episodes aired?

I have earned a grand total of $4,000 from my three game show appearances, barely more than my travel expenses after taxes. Not a single topic I made flashcards for came up; everything was either something I already knew or had no chance of getting.

In my closet, I keep a box of prized possessions: love letters, gifts from former flames, mementos from my wedding. You might call these tokens of failures. But I prefer to see them as Jack Gilbert did: 

Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.
It’s the same when love comes to an end,
or the marriage fails and people say
they knew it was a mistake…
But anything worth doing is worth doing badly.

Tucked among these keepsakes is the letter Meredith Vieira sent me after Millionaire: “I know things didn’t work as well as you might have liked, but at least you went for it.”

I wish I had more time on stage to share wild stories, to don mustard-yellow Chanel pantsuits, to make a thrilling all-in wager. But I went for it, and I’ll go for it again.