Last weekend, I went book shopping, to use a gift card I'd gotten over the holidays. Browsing the shelves made me so happy, as did carrying home my selections.
I had heard that becoming a published author can ruin the bookstore experience. That authors can get upset if their books aren't stocked, and upset if they're stocked but are buried spine-out on a bottom shelf. The first few weeks after my book came out, I did have the weird sensation of blushing every time I crossed a bookstore threshold, as if spotlights were going to follow me while a loudspeaker blared: "THAT WOMAN IN AISLE 3 IS AN AUTHOR! SHE IS GOING TO CHECK AND SEE IF HER BOOK IS HERE! ISN'T THAT PATHETIC? AND CAN YOU BELIEVE SHE LEFT THE HOUSE IN THOSE PANTS?!"
I'll be honest: I still do get a little blush-y if my book is there, and a little stomach-drop if it's not. But mostly, bookstores are still the places they always were: some of my favorite places on earth. I am, first and foremost, a reader. I'm still in love with the written word, and with other people's books.
Published on January 14, 2012 18:01