I Don't Even Know How To Describe This
In August, 2011, I attended an author luncheon at a bookstore. This was a great event for me. My nose had been to the grindstone finishing a book while working only 3 days a week so I could tend to a couple of older relatives. There was no taking time off for things like author appearances--other author appearances--so getting to this one was significant.
The deal was, you bought the author's book, and you could then attend a wine and sandwich lunch with her. She would talk and sign your book.
The author was marvelous. She spoke well and looked great, things I have problems with at my own appearances. The book sounded wonderful. Her phone rang, and when she looked at it, she found that it was a call from her publicist. She had a publicist! I've published 8 books, and I've never had a publicist.
This woman was so cool. The sandwich was good. I even liked the wine, even though it was white and I prefer red. I left thinking that I had to do this kind of thing more often.
Within a couple of weeks, one of the elders in our family had a serious health crisis, and not only did I not attend any more author luncheons, I didn't work for more than 4 months.
But I had that book. I didn't get around to reading it for an entire year. The knowledge that I had the book to read at some point was marvelous. I was going to read that book at some point, and wouldn't it be marvelous.
I finally read it last month, in August, a full year after I bought it at that luncheon. How meaningful, right? A year to the month?
The book was jaw-droppingly dreadful. Rambling. Filled with pretentious metaphors that didn't mean anything. I started skimming long before the mid-way point. I wanted to finish the thing somehow because I'd paid $25 for it and a sandwich and a plastic cup of wine. There were many conversations that seemed to have some profound meaning, but damned if I could tell what it was. There were sections that seemed to be filled with random words strung together on the page.
Needless to say, the reading experience has cast a pall on the lunch with author experience. Think how much better my life would be if I'd never read the book at all but just held on to it, looking forward to reading it some day.
The deal was, you bought the author's book, and you could then attend a wine and sandwich lunch with her. She would talk and sign your book.
The author was marvelous. She spoke well and looked great, things I have problems with at my own appearances. The book sounded wonderful. Her phone rang, and when she looked at it, she found that it was a call from her publicist. She had a publicist! I've published 8 books, and I've never had a publicist.
This woman was so cool. The sandwich was good. I even liked the wine, even though it was white and I prefer red. I left thinking that I had to do this kind of thing more often.
Within a couple of weeks, one of the elders in our family had a serious health crisis, and not only did I not attend any more author luncheons, I didn't work for more than 4 months.
But I had that book. I didn't get around to reading it for an entire year. The knowledge that I had the book to read at some point was marvelous. I was going to read that book at some point, and wouldn't it be marvelous.
I finally read it last month, in August, a full year after I bought it at that luncheon. How meaningful, right? A year to the month?
The book was jaw-droppingly dreadful. Rambling. Filled with pretentious metaphors that didn't mean anything. I started skimming long before the mid-way point. I wanted to finish the thing somehow because I'd paid $25 for it and a sandwich and a plastic cup of wine. There were many conversations that seemed to have some profound meaning, but damned if I could tell what it was. There were sections that seemed to be filled with random words strung together on the page.
Needless to say, the reading experience has cast a pall on the lunch with author experience. Think how much better my life would be if I'd never read the book at all but just held on to it, looking forward to reading it some day.
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Gail Gauthier Reads
I have been maintaining the blog Original Content for twenty years. That one is about any number of things related to writing. I think here I will just post about new publications from me and reading.
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