Yesterday I was in my local Barnes & Noble where I saw four copies of Happy Kid! stacked on a display table, no less, with lots of other more well-known books by more well-known authors. I went up to a sales person, told her who I was, and offered to sign the books. She took me up on the offer and even let slip that she thought there were more copies of the book out back.
Yeah, like that's ever happened to me before.
It still freaks me out that all I have to do is go up to these people, claim to be Gail Gauthier, and they let me sign books. Shouldn't they ask for some ID?
Anyway, this helped to compensate for the e-mail I received last night. It was from the guy who is the contact person for the bookstore in Vermont where I will be reading and signing books on Saturday. He sounded really depressed. He doesn't seem very hopeful about the success of the event.
This bookstore, by the way, is in my hometown. Yeah, there's been a big turnover in the population in Vermont these last few decades, and I'm not exactly a household name among the people I grew up with. Still, you'd think someone would show up just out of curiousity. As one of my sisters has said, you'd think someone would remember our name for bad reasons, if not good ones.
I e-mailed him back and told him that I knew my aunt and cousin were both coming and that the three of us were going out to eat later. So at the very least, I'm going to get lunch.
On the way home, I'm stopping at a Barnes & Noble that's just off the highway in Connecticut to see if they have Happy Kid!. If they do, I'll offer to sign their copies. That will make me feel better.
Assuming they have it, of course. Otherwise, the whole day will stink.
Now that has happened to me before. It won't kill me.