You may not know this because I rarely speak, blog or tweet about it, but I’ve written a book (it’s called Mousetrapped: A Year and A Bit in Orlando, Florida, thanks for asking) and next Saturday 8th May, I’m having a little launch party/glorified signing type thingy in Douglas Bookshop, Cork at 12.30 p.m.
Okay, so maybe it’s almost all I ever talk, blog or tweet about, but you’re not sick of it yet, right?
[Cue the sound of crickets]
Originally, I wasn’t going to have a launch at all. Strange, you may well say, especially since I’ve been dreaming of my first book launch (where it’ll be, who’ll be there, what my shoes will look like) in the same way most little girls dream of their wedding day and would have therefore been expected to grasp any opportunity as soon as it came my way. But that was just it: in all my daydreams, my launch was a glitzy affair involving a $4,000 pale pink Dolce and Gabbana dress I saw in a magazine once, an open bar, mojitos and a novel.
It was certainly not for a little travel memoir I’d published myself.
But once all the hard work had been put in, I started to feel like I deserved a little party. (And if I had a launch, think of the sales!) Evil plans started to form in my head. What could I do that would qualify as a launch of sorts, but not interfere with my Novel Launch Dreams? To go back to the wedding analogy, it was like I was marrying someone I knew I’d be divorcing in a couple of years (AKA ‘The First Husband’) and I wanted to save my Vera Wang dress, expensive wedding planner and silver plated table favors for my second, ‘real’ wedding. For right now I just needed a Justice of the Peace, a new pair of Faith shoes and a cubic zirconia.
I considered having a party at home – not really a launch, more of a ‘thank you’ party for my family and friends, the ones who’d retweeted, blogged, annoyed their friends to buy copies and bought copies themselves. It would be Florida themed, with tropical cupcakes, Mickey Mouse balloons and shortbread cookies in the shape of Space Shuttles. I’d buy a new outfit, they’d buy the books and we’d all be happy.
But this set-up would be missing something crucial: publicity. You can’t very well invite the local paper’s social diarist along to your living room, now can you?
So I’m having a book store launch. And over the next four days, I shall be counting down to it.
The nerves may have something to do with a recurring nightmare I’m having at the moment: me, sitting at a table at the entrance to the bookstore while people walk by (it’s in a shopping centre), peer at me and wonder what I’m doing there.
Help me avoid this: if you live within a fifty mile radius of Cork, come to my launch! (That was a demand, not a suggestion.)
If you don’t know what I’m on about, well then, Welcome to Earth, my Martian friend! You can catch up here.
More tomorrow when on T-Minus 4 Days to (a Book) Launch, I share with you the Jedi mind trick I used on the bookseller to persuade her to let me use her store for my launch…