Saturday’s signing provided yet another weird publishing-world moment. I arrived at B. Dalton to discover two tables in front of the store: one for me and one for another author, who was already there. Store management had double-booked, to borrow a music-industry term. Oh well. No biggie. Except that the other author was a hard-seller, soliciting every mall rat and soccer mom who slinked by the store. His voice is still echoing in my head.
While I cringed at his aggressiveness, I also had to admire his tenacity. And yes, he probably sold more books than I did in that two-hour span. How could he not? Dude was P.T. Fucking Barnum.
Luckily, a few friends dropped by and kept me company at the table: J.P., Mosher, Cathy Scott (who’s already promoting her yet-to-published Katrina pet book), Jim Buckley and others. My new friend Tiffany took some cool pics, which I haven’t quite figured out how to post on this blog.
Anyway, not much going on book-wise through the end of the year. But if anything pops up, I’ll let you all know.