Fear and Loathing at the Release Party

My birthday is next month. I don’t tell you this so you’ll know when to send me presents (I want a pony), but so I can explain to you a phobia I seem to have. I never paid much attention to it before, but it came to a head yesterday.

We spent part of the weekend talking about promotions for the July release of Monster in My Closet. Press releases, review requests, interviews, swag for giveaways and contests — that all went pretty smoothly. Then the question I’d been avoiding finally came up.

“What do you want to do for a release party?”

I’m not much on public speaking. Still, this is my book. I will do whatever it takes. If I have to do readings or silly videos for YouTube or give a talk to new writers or high school students, I’ll do it.

But holy hell. Please don’t make me plan a big party.

When you grow up with a July birthday, your parties tend to be a little on the skimpy side. Invite your whole class. Go ahead. Nobody’s home. They’re all on freakin’ vacation. Sure, there will be a few people hanging around, but the majority are not going to make it. Sorry I missed it. Sounds like a great time. We’ll get together after school starts back up.

Now that I’m a grownup, summer doesn’t send all my friends scuttling off to faraway places. And my writer buddies are awesome, supportive people. A night out at the bar, maybe with a cake to celebrate the release? No problem.

But we started talking about it being an official event, maybe at the library, inviting the media, announcing the local author thing, maybe doing a reading and handing out swag.

What if nobody comes? What if they do come and I have no idea what to say to them? What if what if what if. My eyes filled with tears and my chest tightened up. Not at the idea of having to do an event. It was the idea of having to plan it.

Because if I plan such a monstrous thing, it will fail. I will be awkward with the handful of people who wander down the hall into the library conference room, curious about what’s going on. Some guy from the local newspaper (if they bothered to send anyone) will eat a piece of cake and talk about the bike marathon he’s training for, since nothing worth writing about it going on.

I will go home with the messy, 3/4 remains of a sheet cake that feeds 120 people, having garnered no attention for my book, but plenty of pity from my friends and family who were able to make it. All six of them.

So. Let’s keep this low key so I don’t fall apart. We’re going to pick a date, time, and location, probably a restaurant/bar. I’ll post the info here when we decide on everything. Come have cake and a few drinks. We’ll all chat, be silly, and pretend it’s not all about me.

It’ll be epic.

In a low-key sort of way.