I did question my sanity for a moment or 2 last evening-( and prayed about
it) dragging my 3 poetry collections to a neighboring town for a "Local
Authors Night"....Everyone there was "published" -( nowadays you do all your
own promotions-) twelve or so people, gathering in an old Academy to exhibit
their work.
Little card tables set out with our names on them, across two adjacent rooms.
Nice decorations -some lovely Quilts hung on one end of the main room,
balanced by a table of refreshments on the other.
In the second room I unfolded my cheery sunflower table cloth and spread
out my books.Fortunately I remembered to bring a few business cards- so I
put those out as well. Every one around me was bedazzeled with fancy shiny,
Book marks, synopsis, publisher reviews and photographs.
I took a few deep breaths, turned to my neighbors put out my hand and
smiled. Mystical feminism and political history....Yikes, Small talk....
Then a few personal memoirs, Sci. fiction, several mysteries, several novels,
childrens books... One photography and a History of an old mining town....
One photographer, one local television representative...
The former went around taking picturesof the 'Published Authors'.
I kept on smiling...-not a Cheshire cat grin- just what I hoped was a
pleasant expression. I tried not to make any 'excuses' for my work.
I tried to ask the people who stopped interesting questions about
themselves. Most people thumbed briefly through a few pages, only one
inquired about the first and second collections. One loved the hand
bound copy of my first book...Several said how intimidating they found poetry
to be. I explained that these were little "stories", adventures, etc.
The Boy Scout troop who had come to help with the set up, wandered through
A young fellow with maybe eleven or twelve years on our great planet, ran
his hand over the painting on my cover of the latest collection;
he seemed to enjoy the colors. I opened to the poem it illustrated
and he read the whole piece! I asked if he understood it and he nodded.
I told him the man in the painting was the person who helped me rescue
that horse...how it cost me 150 $... He walked off with the book-His troop
leader brought it back... smiled and said the boy was telling the others
all about it....
That young man was the only person the entire evening- who took the
time to read anything-I think in retrospect I will contact the leader and offer to
give that young man a copy - see what happens! Nia
Tags: Recovery Sobriety Life
