A Trade Show Love Fest and an update or two

Remember the first time you ever looked up into the stars and realized you were but a mere dust mote in that monstrosity of a home we often refer to as the universe? A smallish flake of a dead skin cell in a beam of morning light... that's what I felt like at the trade show. Granted, I wasn’t completely ignorant going in. I had been informed that this “book fair” would be a little bit more intimidating than the CHAMA Book Fair. Still. My publisher couldn’t have prepared me for all that was the Mountains and Plains Denver Book Trade Show. For example, I didn't know that there would be a room the size of a football field lined wall-to-wall with authors who would be sitting next to PILES UPON PILES of their books, pen in their hands ready to dispense of a personalized message to anyone who asked nicely. The charge for this you ask? eh. *shrugging shoulders* A tip bowl and a nice little placard sitting in front of each author recommended a donation of $2.00 that went towards a literacy fund. TWO DOLLARS to have the likes of Dan Simmons autograph Terror. It just didn’t seem right. But back to what else I didn’t know. The endless supply of hors d'oeuvres, the wine glass that never went empty, the people who wanted to go to Amazon.com RIGHT NOW and positively review a book that isn’t even in publication yet. Because they were NICE. And they thought I was NICE. I waited and waited for Twilight Zone music... much to my amazement, it never arrived. Lastly, I didn’t know there would be books. I mean, yes, I knew there would be books. But free books? SIGNED books? Books that have yet to be fondled by the average reader’s hands? I don't know what I expected. I really wasn't prepared for there to be THOUSANDS of books. And HUNDREDS of booksellers. And well over 50 AUTHORS. Whitley Strieber. Jim Sheeler. Hilari Bell!! to name a few. It made me realize how unready my eyes are for something like Book Expo America.

I am small. I know that I am small and not just in the physical sense. But I have never felt as teeny tiny as I did in this deep, expansive sea of genius I found myself swimming in. Well... not actually swimming. I was using arm floaties... Over by the kiddie pool.

And yet the kindness! It makes my heart hurt if I dwell too long on the kindness. I had to bring Toni and Jonah with me to this thing. It was either bring them or don’t come. Which was hard. Because I was busy speechifying about Rosetta Stones to anyone who made eye contact for longer than three seconds. So my kids, meanwhile, swam in the hotel’s indoor pool, they watched movies, they played video games, took naps, snacked, AND they made an appearance at the Author’s Rendezvous and Exhibition Hall , introducing themselves to all the important people who then rewarded their good behavior with t-shirts, bookmarks, pencils, canvas bags, pins, pens, erasers, bubble gum, Bart Simpson stick faces and SIGNED FIRST EDITION BOOKS. And yet they still thought the indoor pool was the best part of the weekend. Who knows, maybe they'll appreciate the extent of their good fortune by the time their my age. OR when someone offers them a HOUSE in exchange for all their signed books.

So 50-some books (it was all we could carry), a couple of colds, and three days later, I’m finally home. I didn’t save any gas, Boogiemum, unless you count the fact that I didn’t drive the entire time I was there... which was actually kind of a feat! But I DID remember your advice about the eyebrows, LCG. Unfortunately many women (even some men) these days keep their bangs so long they are as well hidden as my abdominal stretch marks. LUCKILY, I had the picturing-them-naked thing to fall back on. And the racks. There were plenty of racks to rest my eyes upon. Hence, I think I did OKAY. I was smiling, anyway!


This is me with some of my fellow Central Avenue Press authors -- Rick Reichman, author of Twenty Things You Must Know To Write A Great Screenplay (coming out in the next few months) and Martha Engber, author of Growing Great Characters From the Ground Up. For anyone who doesn't already know, I'm the vertically-challenged one in the pic.

And here's the advanced reader copy of my as-yet-coverless novel! It appears that the title of my book is Uncorrected Proof. Trust me when I say that it is not. Or don't trust me and click on the picture for a better view. What joy to see it bound, though!

Before I go to bed, I thought I ought mention that my dad is doing much better. Thank you, beloved commenters for your kind words of concern and obvious amusement. I have to believe that it somehow helped.