So I’d decided to have a book launch. Now all I needed was to persuade a brick and mortar bookshop to lend me some space to have it in.
I was unduly nervous about approaching my local indie bookstore, thinking they’d listen to what I had to say, stare at me for an uncomfortably long moment and then burst out laughing. ‘Oh, you silly girl,’ I imagined them saying as they wiped the laughter-induced tears from their eyes with an index finger. ‘We don’t let the likes of you in here. We only support properly published books!’ In order to convince them that I was serious, I put on my serious clothes (Mousetrapped joke alert: i.e. no ‘Love Stinks’ T-shirt with cartoon skunk), polished up a copy of my book (fingerprints show up terribly on the back cover) and put together a little colour-coordinated information sheet that I hoped would convince the bookseller I was in the business of selling books and not just looking for an excuse to get my face in the paper. I also threw in a DVD just for luck.
Of course, I didn’t need to worry. Bookstores, generally, are only to happy to support local authors and let’s not forget, you’re bringing people into their stores, selling books for them and, through your launch publicity, publicizing them. The manager of the store where I’ll have mine, Douglas Bookshop, couldn’t have been lovelier. Looking at the book, she even asked me who my publisher was.
Today’s blog post, I realize, is coming a bit late in the day. That’s because since about nine o’clock this morning I’ve been launch outfit hunting, and buying enough make-up, skin brightening primers and false eyelashy things from Boots to, well, open my own Boots, all in preparation for my prolonged exposure to the public this Saturday at 12.30pm. More on that later in the week.
Tomorrow: stock options.