I’m in the midst of doing that new author thing. Primarily I’ve been making the rounds in Facebook parties, signing up for book signings and jumping at all local opportunities to sell book and meet book lovers.
Which is how I wound up at a book swap at a Goth/Industrial/Fetish Club last night. I heard about it on my Facebook feed, where it showed up as an event three of my friends were attending. It involved getting rid of books I’ve read to make room for new, free books. Needless to say, I was in. Then I found that the promoter had invited local authors to set up and sell. Definitely in.
I feel like my story should be a lot more exciting, dangerous and sexy than it is. I went and dropped off some books. I sold one book to a good friend, while we hung out and a Wes Craven movie played on TV. Like a vulture, I descended on all newly donated books as they arrived and slowly built a pile of books I won’t have the time to read. A few people peered skeptically at my book with it’s pink beach-y cover as they walked past to the bar. One or two people flipped it over and read the blurb. The organizer was incredibly nice.
And that’s it. But it sounds so much more fun when I say I took my husband to a fetish club on a Monday night. So that’s what I’m going with.