I try not to talk about the writing side of my life here anymore. That's what Good Morning, Fuckers! is for. This one is somewhat related, but this is not about writing exactly.
One of the things I value about Printers Row is, it makes me feel like an author. I can write every day for an hour or so for years on end, and that won't make me feel like an author, just a writer.
There is a difference. A writer writes, but an author meets fans (and potential fans), sells books to people, signs them, gets interviewed, etc. Going to cons and literary festivals makes me feel like the latter.
Printers Row is the only show I go to these days, even though I wish I could go to more. But Printers Row did something for me this year that I did not expect.
I used to have a robust social life. Then I quit drinking, and I had a regular sized social life. Then I moved to DeKalb, and my social life disappeared. Almost. I still see friends once in a blue moon. I have plans to see one tomorrow, in fact. But I've only had two visitors, and one of them was my brother, Dan. Family, in other words. The extent of my social life was going to work, and that really shouldn't count. You can't be yourself in the office.
So I was genuinely worried that I'd lost my social skills. How the hell am I going to sell books if I don't remember how to communicate with fellow human beings? And it is a skill. You don't realize it until you have interactions with people who don't have this skill, and I meet a lot of people who don't. I talk to 100 a day on average for work, and you'd be surprised by how many of them don't know how to interact with others.
And I'm not talking about people who say something awkward and then torture themselves thinking about it for the rest of their lives. Those people have a lot more skills than they think and should cut themselves a break. They're being too hard on themselves. They are at least trying. I'm talking about people who approach an interaction from an adversarial perspective. They are determined to "win" this conversation. They don't recognize that for people to be involved in a discussion, there should be a give and take, perhaps some compromise, in resolving whatever issue is at hand. Yes, there is talking, but there is also listening. They don't understand the goal is for both parties to walk away from the interaction without thinking stuff like, "What an asshole." Or, "Well. That was fucking weird." Things like, "What the hell is that guy's problem?"
Now imagine you're at Printers Row, and you're checking out the weird kids' table (ie. the BWA table), and the author you're talking to just keeps saying, over and over again, "Buy my book." No pleasantries. No how's-it-going, no inquiries into the stuff you like to read, how's your experience of the show going, nothing but BUY MY BOOK. Would you buy that book?
So you can see why I feared this.
Thankfully I was all right. I felt a little creaky when I first arrived, and it took some time to warm up and remember what this was supposed to be like, but I thankfully did not forget how to talk to people standing directly in front of me. So Printers Row reminded me of how to be an author this year, but it also helped me remember how to be a human.
Anyway, check out my Annual Post Printers Row Sale from earlier today. Let me know if you want anything.
Huh-huh. I said "hard on."
