A Word From The Author
I’m an author on a book tour. I’m in a big chain bookstore, sitting at a table with a stack of my books in front of me and beside a seven foot tall reproduction of my book cover.
I’m chatting with someone while signing their book, and there are three people in line behind them—it’s my first book, so three people in line is huge for me, I’m enjoying the heck out of it and I’m working my hardest to make sure everyone is having a great time.
And they mostly are. Mostly.
I start to pick up an impatient vibe from the man at the end of the line. He’s kind of huffy, looking around a lot, and keeps trying to make eye contact with me as I’m writing a somewhat lengthy dedication for the person at the front.
The front person asks if we can take a photo together, I say OF COURSE because I am so not used to anyone wanting to take a picture with me and I’m totally an attention hog.
This really sets Grumpy Man off.
“Really?!” he barks. I’m trying my best to not be mad at Grumpy Man, because he’s in a line to buy my book. Maybe he’s had an awful day.
Maybe he’s late for dinner. Maybe his parking meter ran out five minutes ago and he has so many parking tickets that they’ll tow his car.
Who knows? So I ask the other people in line if it’s ok for this gentleman to jump ahead since he seems to be pressed for time, and everyone is cool with it.
I motion for him to come on up. He plops a bag down on the signing table, pulls out three copies of Geddy Lee’s Big Book of Bass, and says “I need to return these.” Oh.
Oh no. I put on my best apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry for the confusion,” I say, gesturing at my stack of books and the giant sign beside me, “I’m the author of this book and I’m here to sign copies of it today.”
“DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE, I NEED TO RETURN THESE,” he shouts. “For sure, I get that,” I say, “I just don’t know how I can help you.
I don’t work here, I’m just visiting this store to sign my book.” I point towards the cash desk about 20 feet away and say, “I’m sure that the awesome people who work at this store will be happy to help you.”
“I stood in THIS line. I need YOU to help me,” he snaps. I’m pretty convinced that he’s not listening to me. “I’m so sorry about that confusion.
It makes sense, there was a line of people, you figured it was a line for the cash, and you stood in it. But it turns out it was a line to get my autograph.
The good news is that there’s no line at the cash.”
I point again towards the actual cash. The other people in line are having a great time watching this show. And a few people have come creeping over from the coffee shop attached to the bookstore to get a better view.
“Cut out this AUTHOR GARBAGE,” shouts Grumpy Man, “and get me your manager!” I stand up very slowly. I pick up a copy of my book from the stack and flip to the About The Author page.
I hold it up beside my face and make the same smirking grin that I’m wearing in the headshot printed in the book. This visual aid seems to have worked, because Grumpy Man grabbed his three copies of Geddy Lee’s Big Book of Bass and toddler-stomped his way over to the actual cash.