Last Friday I had my first book signing. That was kind of surreal. Someone once asked me about book signings and I told her I would never do one. I said, “I would never go to one, so I don’t think I should have one.” I actually dogged them pretty badly.
Well, I put my foot right in my mouth. People wanted signed copies. They wanted to buy one FROM me, in person as opposed to online. A book signing was inevitable. What a wonderful problem to have.
(If you would like your own signed copy of one of my books, you can order one online here)
I had my first book signing in Kinston, North Carolina at Middle Grounds Coffeehouse. While it was a somewhat spontaneous decision, there were a couple reasons for this location. First, it’s my hometown and where most of my support comes from. They deserve dibs on signed copies. Second, I believe in supporting small businesses. I did not ask the library to host it, where book signings usually take place. Instead I asked a small, locally owned coffee shop to host it. Third and lastly, that coffee shop is run by someone I went to high school with. It was pretty cool for the both of us to be promoting our products under one roof about 10 years after high school. It just seemed neat.
Granny was the first one there. When I pulled up, a little late, I had a text waiting from her. “Where are you?” Due to some of the mature content of my work, I didn’t think she would come. I figured she wouldn’t buy a book at all. But when I opened the door she was in there waiting. It’s these little acts that make her so great, and the reason I dedicated my first work, my novella The Selfie Princess, to her.
Granny was waiting for me when I walked inside and surprisingly so were a couple other people. I couldn’t have asked for anything better. During my four-hour sit I was visited by friends, family, and people I hadn’t seen in years. A lot of people bought books. Some people brought in copies they had ordered online.
One girl handed me her online-bought copy of Hang-Ups and Hangovers to sign and there was a paperclip marking her place in chapter 6. She had read to chapter 6. Seeing the bookmark it kind of struck me. She had read to chapter 6. She bought my book. Received it. Opened it. And had read to chapter 6. And now here she was asking me to sign it.
I feel like all I do is “buy my book, buy my book, buy my book,” and I guess I hadn’t stopped to consider that once my customers bought my book they would become my readers. That manuscript I typed up a couple months ago would become a part of their lives. Maybe just a small part, but the the characters, the themes, the journey, would become a part of their lives. They would have their own personal reactions and interpretations to my story. They would have opened the door to my soul and thoughts and would decide whether my work was good or not. Whether my story was interesting or not. And here was a copy in my hand that had already been bought, and she had read to chapter 6. My book. Maybe my words are failing me here but maybe you get the point.
(If you haven’t yet, pick up your copy of Hang-Ups and Hangovers here)
In all, the whole experience was great. I was catching up with old friends, selling my books at a coffee shop run by an old classmate on a sunny Friday in April. Books were signed. Pictures were taken. Money was made. I felt I was stepping closer to the dream.
As the event drew to a conclusion around 8pm, I was still surrounded by friends and family. The lot of us all went across the street to Ginger 108 for sushi and were treated very well by people who knew we were the book-signing group. Our bartender was quite generous. The food was great. Everything was perfect.
Afterwards we visited The Red Room to drink some more and listen to live music. Friends bought me round after round. My sister actually sold one of my books to the guy who had prepared our sushi at Ginger 108. Everything was perfect.
After that bit of fun, we went to hang out at one of my friends houses where we watched Netflix, talked, joked, laughed, and ate junk food. My friend who owned the home understood my financial situation- how I am not making a steady paycheck and won’t be for a while, how I am selling everything I own, and how I don’t know where I’m going to be living in a month (“voluntarily homeless” as I referred to it), and he offered me his spare bedroom if I needed it.
Virtually no one understands my decision to submit myself to the uncertainty of homelessness, and they all suggest I get part time work to keep a roof over my head. They don’t understand what it is I am trying achieve. I have been a “working man” since the day I turned 16. It didn’t work for me. I am going all the way back to square one, restarting with nothing, and building it all only with money from my own work. I think my friend understands that vision. Honestly, I still don’t know where I’ll be staying June 1.
As I dreamed lazily about where I would be at the end of next month, I panned the room at all of my friends’ smiling faces. In that moment I realized there was nowhere for me to be. Actually, I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be. There was nothing I had to do. No demand on my time I couldn’t say no to. I looked from person to person and thought to myself, “This is it. This is what I’m working for.” It was a glimpse at freedom. Stepping closer to the dream.
I was talking with someone recently and she asked, “So where are you gonna go? When your lease runs up at the end of May.”
“I dunno,” I said.
“You don’t know…” she repeated. “HOW COULD YOU NOT KNOW?! We’re talking about where you’re going to LIVE!”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“You’ll just end up where you’ll end up? You just think everything is going to work out for you and you’ll be fine?”
“Yep.”
(Ray Clark and I discussed the merits of not having a plan in our interview here)
I didn’t really have anything else to say. And I meant it- I believe everything will be fine. Since I walked away from my job, life has consistently shown promise and opportunity and at this point I’m trusting in that momentum. Whatever happens to me I will be ready for it and it will probably be great anyways. I’m as at peace as I’ve ever been and know in my heart of hearts that I am steadily (sometimes a little slower than I’d like) moving in the direction I want. Stepping closer to the dream.
Money is tight right now, but money has always been tight. I made the most money I had ever made in my life in 2015 and somehow money was still always tight. If it is an enduring fact of life that money is tight then I might as well be happy.
Oh, and by the way- buy my book
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