Hi Everyone,
Until today, I’ve done three book signings in my writing life. The first one was right after my first book was published, and I got booked into what looked like a big drug store (I was about 21 years old, and had just had published the book I wrote at 19). It was in Gilroy, California, at the time of the Garlic Festival (the smell of garlic was overwhelming as I signed), and the mayor at the time tried to kiss me. It was an interesting introduction into the world of book signings. And I was never very inclined to do book signings, and did no publicity at all for my books in those days. I spent my time writing, and taking care of my children. I never went on tour or on the road for my books. I didn’t really have time, and preferred to be at home writing, and with the kids. And I didn’t do interviews either then.(And still rarely do them now.)
My second book signing was in Chicago a while later. I can’t even remember how I got roped into it. There were two other authors scheduled to be signing books, at a book store, and somehow the people who arranged it, failed to mention that both of the other authors were very unusual and admirable people. One was a Viet Nam vet who had lost all four limbs, and had written a book about his experiences. The other was a fairly well known author whose courage I had admired, who had been severely abused and sequestered as a child, had survived it, and gone on to be a writer, and she too had suffered damage to her limbs. Not to sound disrespectful, but it was somewhat startling at the time, because both of these remarkable people signed their books with a pen they held in their teeth. And I sat between them, feeling odd and guilty because I could sign my books with a pen held in my hand. They were both interesting to talk to, but it was a very unusual experience. » read more »
As many or most of you know, I lost a son, at 19, sixteen years ago (this week). Nick was bipolar all his life, and committed suicide, on his fourth attempt (he tried it the first time at 18, and succeeded 11 months later). And although the other term for bipolar is ‘manic-depressive’, most of the time, he didn’t seem like a depressed person, and when he wasn’t okay, he was more ‘manic’ than depressive. But above all, he was an amazingly fantastic kid, funny, multi-talented, creative, outrageous, nothing fazed him, and he did all the funny outrageous things that most of us wish we had the courage to do. (He politely but definitely leaned over to the restaurant table next to ours once, when he was about 16, had a spoonful of someone’s hot fudge sundae, and said “Wow, that is yummy!!”. And he was so funny and charming and surprising, with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen, that the people with the sundae just laughed and couldn’t get mad at him (although I nearly fell out of my chair with embarrassment when he did it!!). You could never predict what he would do next! 