As I’ve mentioned a few times throughout this blog, I wrote a book. A self-published-on-Amazon book, so for someone who’s never published anything, I basically feel like JK Rowling. I’m sure her mom passed out copies of Harry Potter to relatives at the Christmas table as well😊
They do say that a book is only as successful as it’s marketed, and I haven’t gone too crazy with that. For a couple reasons, first of all, that I never actually intended to that—publishing The Girls of West Star was something I did for me. Two, because of my current situation…I wouldn’t put it past PC to somehow use something that was important to me against me…it seems to be his thing these days.
Finally, I haven’t marketed much because I don’t know exactly how someone goes about marketing themselves and their writing, which even in a fiction genre is still pretty personal. Apparently, none of my friends do either, but that didn’t stop them. One minute I was self-publishing on Amazon and patting myself on the back for hitting a lifetime goal, and then next thing I know my friends are booking me a signing party and assuring me all you have to do is show up.
In many ways, I went into this book signing blind. I don’t do that. I prepare, I plan, I obsess, I overthink. I arrive early. I don’t decide what I’m wearing just an hour before, and I never, ever wait to put the directions into my GPS until the last minute. But…life. Came home from the beach and literally had almost every waking hour filled with work, kids, a tree being cut down, school events, birthday celebrations, legal meetings, on and on. I realized that I was going to have to give a little talk, and since I like public speaking about as much as I like dealing with PC, I was dreading it a bit.
But. The signing party was held at the home of a lovely woman named Cindy, who—upon reading my blog—had insisted to my friend that she must meet me. She graciously hosted her book club and invited a bunch of her friends. My two girlfriends handled the food, the wine, and the staging. My lip gloss-loving dancer friend made a point to get a cake, the “biggest cake I could find!” My gratitude for these friends always seems to grow and grow. Just when I think I can’t love them anymore…
Anyhow. The women came, I spoke. Cindy made a point to explain about the blog also, stating that it resonated to her situation which, of course, is my situation. And apparently, the situation of women everywhere. As each woman came to have a book signed, they breathed tales of their daughters, their sisters, they themselves: stories of divorce and cheating husbands and the depths of what something so commonplace does to your soul. They asked me how I was doing, how old my children are, and promised me the same promise, the one I know is a truth now: you’ll be okay!
They were also a hell of a crowd of fun-loving ladies. After the books were signed, I mingled through the party and listened to the sounds I know so well: laughter, friendship, the clinking of wine glasses and the general sound of strength. Some of these women’s stories had tidbits of horror and sadness: none of them had floated through life. And yet here they all were, laughing with each other and having a grand old time, all because they had come to buy a book that I published on a whim…