But paper things? Especially owls (my familiar, if you must know)? I just couldn’t resist.
At the checkout, I teased the (nameless, sorry) salesperson about the bust of William Shakespeare who appeared to be supervising her, and we talked about the recent talk by writerly colleague Terry Fallis at the store. How fun it was. What an impression he made.
So I told her that Terry had read and blurbed my latest book.
[Aside: I am terrible at self-promotion. My mother taught me never to brag, or, in her words, “toot my own horn”. It’s a curse in the writerly life, because OF COURSE WE HAVE TO SELF-PROMOTE, especially those of us without agents or Big Publishing Houses and their Big Promotion Budgets behind us. So this was uncomfortable for me. Okay, back to the action.]
She looked up. “You’re an author? Do we have your books on our shelves?”
Conversation followed, and in a second, she had a piece of paper, a pen, and was quickly taking down my details about books, publisher, genre.
I felt so … SEEN!
So, here’s to indie bookshops and the people who work in them and visit them. Indies “get” it – the writing life, the importance of connecting writers with readers, readers with books, me with owl cards, even while Will Shakespeare is breathing down your neck.
My list includes but does not end with...
