Thoughts on the Book Launch

A crowd gathers at A Different Drummer, a bookstore frequented often in my childhood. Ian, the owner, provides juice while my Mom and I set out desserts and fruit platters. Copies of my Wardroids stand alongside my mother’s Dying to go Viral. The covers look as though they’re talking to each other, both characters leaning casually on one hip.

With my mother I work the room, greeting friends and family who have come to celebrate with us. A photographer for the Post takes our pictures. I feel like a star.

Ian gives the introduction, then Mom and I take the stage. After Oscar-style thank yous we talk about our ideas and our process. We are a team in front of the podium. The crowd listens to our every word. Mom reads from her book and I read from mine.

We open the floor to questions and when few are presented, we ask each other. My mother surveys the audience, “Who here has written a book?” Hands shoot up. We applaud each other.

 

As our friends devour fudge and chocolate-dipped bacon, I sit beside my mother and a line forms in front of us. We sign like celebrities. Finally everyone who wants a book has one, and the book store is deserted.

There are short moments of celebration in the solitary life of a writer. I’m learning to cherish them. Though I don’t know how many books were sold, and I can’t be sure if there was a monetary profit, the launch was worth it for the joy of being in the limelight if only for a moment. Now I’m back to working on my next book, muddling through the second draft, fitting scenes together like puzzle pieces.

And I’m also back to doing laundry and cooking dinner for my family.