So where are the books, I've been wondering. Why aren't they on the shelves? The book signing is tomorrow...
The owner didn't begin to show any sort of concern until last week, when I said I wasn't going to bother coming if there were no books to sell or sign.
GASP...we can't have that! There's an ad in the paper. There's a poster on the door. The signing will take place during The Daffodil Festival, an occasion so large and important only Christmas is met with more joy and reverence. Or maybe not...I'm pretty sure I don't see framed art inside local businesses with scripted "Christmas 2005" at the bottom. I do, however, see framed "Daffodil Festival" prints.
A big deal to this author, true, but a deal I'd gladly abandon if no books are present. In the end, one week ago, we reached a compromise. I'd show up, shake hands, and let folks order books. After all, there is that poster on the door...and the ad in the paper.
It's not that I haven't met incompetent people. It's not that I expected to sell a million copies. What grinds my gears is that someone else's incompetence makes me look bad. I don't need anyone's help in looking bad. I can fend for myself in that area.
Enter my publisher...Arctic Wolf. I swear I heard the William Tell Overture (Lone Ranger Theme) playing as he kindly explained to me "I'll handle this."
And he did. The books are here. Today. Forty-eight hours post order. Twenty-four hours pre- signing. My pen is out of the drawer again and I've checked the clicker. It's good to go.
I'll sign my name, standing in front of my poster, thinking good thoughts about Arctic Wolf and Second Day Air...