On meeting authors

Last night the fantastic YA author buddies Holly Black and Cassandra Clare came to our area for a reading-signing thing. Holly writes books about faeries and Cassandra writes books about demon hunters. I went with my best friend, because she and I plan to BE these two when we grow up.

The presentation was enjoyable. Holly read from her new book and Cassandra from her upcoming (about which there were proportionally more squeals and whispers than I had altogether expected). Then they taught us the octopus-in-a-coffee-shop con, which is a "family-friendly" version of the dog-in-a-bar con, which is the same as the violin con, which any Neil Gaiman fan should know.

They took questions. I did not ask one. One person asked where they got their shoes, because their shoes were fantastic. One fan raised her hand twice, but mostly told completely pointless stories without questions in them. I learned that, in order to be a moderately bestselling author with a medium-sized but devoted fanbase, I'll have to learn more tact and handle things gracefully. Shame.

There was a long line to get books signed. My friend and I passed the time by headbanging to MUCC. I believe I deeply injured the sensibilities of the small child staring at us shamelessly when my cell phone died and I said "fuck" quite loudly, because what if a life-or-death text message came my way within the next hour?

Our books were signed. We had pleasant conversation with the authors. On our way out we had pleasant conversation with a librarian and the wonderful folk of Pudd'n Head Books, the even more wonderful book store hosting the event.

All in all, a success.
Questions? Comments? Concerns? Slanders?
I'll take 'em all.

Yours &c,
E. A. Weatherfield.