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!
That’s really awesome. I hope you know you’re the envy of all us non-published people lurking in your shadow (but not in a creepy way, of course). Hey, two books sold isn’t just two books sold–for some of us, that’s years of effort, struggle, failure. Most of us will never even see that day.
And on that note: I like sunshine.
Thanks for the post, Ryan. And thanks for dropping by and saying hi!
No problem, Sue, and good luck with the book and future writings.
Glad the signing went well, and I love the story about your grandfather. Brilliant!
Now this wasn’t the sort of post I expected. I thought you would have quite a queue waiting and it has really helped to put things into perspective for a wanabe like myself. Now I’m of to visit Ryan’s blog and see if I can figure out why he likes sunshine…or am I just being really Aspie and not getting the subtleness of his comment?
No, not much subtleness there, dj, just randomness. Well, not quiet all randomness; the post was about being grateful for some things despite other things, and I just wanted to add my bit of gratitude for the day.
I really do like sunshine.
Cor! I want to do a book signing one day! 🙂
I thought you would have loads of people queuing up to get a copy!! I think it just goes to show that there are only two people in that suburban town 30 mins outside London that have any taste!!
C x
Thanks for sharing your signing experience, Sue! Two copies sold is cause for celebration – I had a signing in Cardiff that clashed with a signing by a prominent Welsh rugby star! We were at opposite ends of the store and he was not the one sitting alone amidst piles of unsold copies…
I love the idea of you following in your grandfather’s footsteps as your baby is unleashed on the world.
I don’t know how you contained yourself – I’d willingly marry anyone who voluntarily bought something I’d written!
hey, spiralskies: I did think about the marriage bit, but I thought my husband wouldn’t like it. And anyway, she was a bit old for me :))
I’m sure Linda will be blown away by the book, recommend it to all her family, take it to her book club … and so it grows.
I love following your story. You’re following in your grandfather’s footsteps so well:-)
I think it’s cool how we follow people. You’re talking about following in the footsteps of others–we all do it. But we’re not just followers or leaders, we’re both, and I’m certainly following other who have gone on before me (in a lived and died sense as well as a talent, career, writing sense), and I suppose I’m leading those who have yet to get where I am. It’s a big chain of people, loosely coupled, pushing and pulling.
I guess there is something to say here about who you choose to “chain up” with, but yeah… I’ve blah-ed enough, I think, and my lunch break is almost over. [Insert here my jealous bit about how you full-time authors are lucky.]
Ryan, you clearly have a wonderful imagination. I wonder what you imagine a “full-time author” is. It certainly isn’t me — I still squeeze my writing into the millions of other things pulling on me — like family, other work etc. But I will admit, I am able to spend more and more time writing now that the kids are older, but don’t think that has anything to do with making money out of my writing. That may never happen! [insert here my thrilled bit about loving to be thought I’m a full-time anything!]
I suppose I, like many, find things to be a bit greener on the other side of the fence. That’s how my imagination works–and oh! you haven’t seen anything yet!
I would love to be a “full-time” writer though. I guess I admire writers, not for their schedules (which as you pointed out can be quite busy), but for the work they do, the impact they have, and the very nature of their work.
I really admire you people. Really. …So don’t go squishing (as apposed to squashing) my dreams 🙂
Hi Sue
I am SO glad that that lady turned up! And you never know… she might end up being someone who organises bookgroups, libraries… who knows!
I LOVE the ideas of being a travelling salesman! As I discovered late in life, my natural father was just that. Seems to have peddled mopre than just encyclopedias, in my case, but hey…
So what a WONDERFUL thought, that I ought to be doing this well, not wilting, as it’s in the genes!
Thank you.