Sad, Convention of One

You know those circumstances where you actively avoid the person who is putting themselves out there? In NYC it would be the college kids canvassing the street for a cause you don't believe in, or the mariachi band on the subway. You don't know what I mean? Good for you. That means you've probably never been that person.

I have.

Recently I did a book signing at a convention center in Orlando. Basically that meant I sat on a folding chair at a folding table in a hallway outside of a trade show next to a stack of my books with a black sharpie at the ready for the longest hour of my life. I sold five books.

It was like being back in high school at the cafeteria waiting for someone to sit next to you. Strangers would walk by with their eyes averted, not wanting to get caught in the web of my obvious agenda. I found it all a little soul sucking; but when something like that happens you give up and go home or learn.

Next time there won't be a poorly handwritten note with an arrow pointing toward me saying, "Meet An Author." There will be a properly designed iPad bio flashing next to me. 72 pt! I won't dress in sensible black jeans and a black shirt. I'll wear something flashier - maybe a feather boa over something tight because sex sells! The sharpie won't be medium point black. I'll use a glitter pen. I'll write in emojis to look younger. I'll hire Kellyanne Conway because that woman can sell anyone anything.

Beware trade show hallways and strangers staring at the floor - you've met your match. My book will end up on your shelves.

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