Yesterday I had my first book signing, and it was as you would expect it to be if you close your eyes and keep all those stories of non-famous on-the-road novelists in your head…..

It was a busy chain bookstore in the busiest mall of a lovely suburban town about  thirty minutes outside of London.  Wedged between the entrance, the fiction section and the children’s corner was a small table with a simple display of  copies of Tangled Roots, a poster of the cover, a sign announcing my presence at the shop, two low seats, and me.  And there I sat for nearly two hours.  It’s amazing how a person can be both prominently in view and invisible at the same time.
It didn’t take long before I started having that strange out-of-body experience where you know you are present, you interact with the world in a normal fashion, and yet, you watch yourself doing everything you do as if  you’re not really there.  So I watched myself smile at strangers, wave to babies in prams, and chat with the occasional customer who’s eyes lingered just a bit too long to avoid my cheerful banter: “Hi, I’m Sue Guiney.  Yes, this is my novel.  My very first one.  I’m so excited.”
Time passed.  But then….then…an absolutely lovely (and clearly discerning) older woman stopped by, picked up the book, listened to my schpiel and said those words I had been longing to hear: “Yes, that sounds quite interesting.  I’m looking for something new to read.  Please sign it to Linda, with an ‘i’.”  Oh Linda, Linda, Linda with an ‘i’…..oh, how I longed to fling my arms around you and proclaim my everlasting gratitude for your kindness — and your £12.99!  But no — I exercised self-control.  I am a professional now, after all.  I inscribed her book, signed my name and handed it over with a simple, “Thank you” and “I hope you enjoy it.”
And that was about it.  Several people talked to (most of whom said, “Oooh, sounds interesting but I’m more of a John Grisham type”), two books sold (the Assistant Manager said she was keen to read it and would buy one as well), several more signed copies left for future sales.  So was it a success?  Absolutely!  Without a doubt!  I sold two books to people who didn’t already know me and like me.  I hurled myself out into the world, getting my name and face out into the public. I took the next babystep in this crazy journey of becoming a novelist.  It was a real rite of passage, and like all such rites, it was at times difficult and uncomfortable, but in the end, important.  And next week? Bath on Friday afternoon, June 6.  Bristol on Saturday, June 7 (more details to come).
I know this post is getting a bit long, but there is one more detail I must share.  For a variety of boring reasons, the bookshop hadn’t ordered enough books for the signing so I agreed to bring some along.  I packed a case full of books and a bag full of pens and posters, and set off like a travelling salesman.  When I hoisted all my stuff onto the train and settled in, it hit me.  I was a travelling salesman, and I was one just like my grandfather had been more than fifty years ago in suburban New York, back when the suburbs were still farms and the roads were slow and dusty.  From my grandfather to me, generations and continents apart, but still lugging our wares, sweet-talking strangers, smiling at babies, counting up sales at the end of the day.

My own Tangled Roots, indeed!