Costco, Cool Readers, and Getting Used to Awesome
Today I was lucky enough to do a book signing at my local Costco. Thank you, Costco, for the invitation. I appreciate the opportunity.
Full disclosure: I am still not used to signing books or presenting myself publicly as an author. I sat down at the lovely table with the lovely prearranged book display, right next to the lovely sign with my giant name and face on it, and I did not know where to look. Across the aisle from me there were big stacks of Roombas and Nutri Ninjas and Crock Pots, and I made a lot of eye contact with those. Don’t get me wrong: I was beyond grateful, but sitting there at that table with my book, I still felt kind of like a poser. Which is strange, because nothing could be less posery than signing my name to something I wrote. I just need to get used to how awesome this is, that’s all.
The coolest part of any event is that I get to talk to readers – and most especially, to kids. Some of them are excited; others are shy. Some of them have already read the book; others are looking for a new story to fall into, or for a book to bring back to school with them. Some are prodded ever so reluctantly to the table by their parents (thanks, parents!) Regardless of their reasons for picking up the book, I love interacting with them, asking them what grade they’re going into this year, what their favorite books are, what they’re reading right now, which color pen they’d like me to sign with. It’s never awkward with the kids. (No offense to the grown ups. I still love you. Thank you for buying the book.)
The best part of the day for me was being approached by a young reader who had already read GROUNDED and just wanted to say hello. I signed a postcard for her and asked her what she’s reading right now. She looked very bashful, and she tapped my book on its cover. “I just read this one over and over,” she said.
Oh. Wow. I gave that to a kid. That feeling of wanting to read a book over and over. I’ve had that feeling. That’s an incredible feeling. One of the best. I told her it was the most important compliment I’d ever received on my writing.
I meant it.