So, Husband had the camera, but I was directly in front of him. His only photo option was that which you see above. Thus, the picture-taking job fell to me. I was in direct eyesight of the four authors present, and it was awkward to be all snappity-snap with the Big Silver-Plastic SLR, right in their faces. In my defense, the flash remained off, and I'm pretty sure that I would not have minded being photographed, were I Beth Revis, Victoria Schwab, or Myra McEntire. Or Alan Gratz. Because it would mean that I was SIGNING BOOKS. *drifts off to fantasize about that very thing*
It was so fun. My grin was plastered and unyielding.
|This is (thankfully) where my wonderful husband took over photographer duties.|
Another major difference between then and now is that in college, it really was all about the grade. I did not *love writing,* they way I do now. I didn't know anything about agents or publishing or the writing process. All I knew was that I never really loved what I wrote. I just wanted to be in plays and graduate one semester late instead of two. Ah, the achiever in me.
ANYWAY. It was awesome, this book signing. I loved hearing the authors talk about their processes and experiences, and to actually understand--at least in part--what they were talking about.
I thought long and hard about what I would say when I got to the table, but none of it actually came out. Did I mention how nervous I was? I did manage to use polite words and tell them my name, and not get embarrassed about asking for a picture:
|Glasses are cool! Look at me, fitting in!|
But hey, look at it this way: we're closing on the new house in the morning, and I will have no shortage of chances to daydream about signing autographs.
Wish me luck.