That I Would Be Good

Chapter Twenty-Five

“It is never too late to be what you might have been.” ― George Eliot

One year two months later…

     I sat at a large folding table supplied by the bookstore with a stack of books on each side of me and a huge cardboard sign a few feet in front of the table.  The pictured my book with a picture of myself along the side.  In a few minutes I’d be taking pictures with people and signing books. 

       My agent, Shea, stood a few steps behind where I was sitting, clicking away on her iPhone, probably texting her fiancé.  She had been feeling really homesick these past few days and was constantly on her phone when she shouldn’t be, such as now.  I didn’t say anything though.  I was feeling homesick.  It had been almost two weeks since I’d last been in my own bed and if I had someone to text nonstop I would have.

     The tour for my book was coming to a close though.  Tomorrow would be my last day away from home, and then I’d be back in the comfort of my own bed.  Shea would be finishing the small plans for her wedding and enjoying the company of her fiancé.  Everything would be going back to normal.

      It had been an eventful tour and definitely a learning experiencing.  Readers would come up to me so happy to finally meet the person who crafted a world they were lost in for hours.  They’d share their favorite bits of the story, least favorite characters, how I inspired them to start a story of their own to write after reading the little bio about me on the back.  It really was flattering and it was enjoyable the first few days of the tour.  But now, I was ready to go home and stop answering the same reader’s questions for the hundredth time, smiling for a picture, and signing my name. 

      Dolores was smart when she told Barry she wouldn’t do any book-signings or tours.  She’d have been terrible at them.  Snapping at every repeated question, not wanting to pose for a photo, and complaining about a cramp in her hand.  She knew the extent of her patience, and thankfully Barry respected her wishes.  Otherwise I don’t think she would have sold as many books as she did.

     A line was starting to form and in ten minutes I’d be signing books and smiling while answering the questions of people.  It took a lot of practice to be nice and patient with so many people.  I wasn’t used to the constant attention and at first I was coming off awkward and unfriendly, but soon I caught the hang of things nad would smile and nod and put on a fake excited tone.  It was an art to be friendly with people, and not one I had ever been interesting in acquiring until now.

      Being on tour was a way to sell future books and the current book that is out.  You meet the readers, they ask you some questions about your story and maybe upcoming ones and you form a type of connection with them that you couldn’t through your books.  That was what the point of being on tour was.  So they could meet the person who wrote something that they connected to.  They wanted to see if they met their expectations.

      Shea put her phone in her pocket and gave me a reassuring smile, before clapping her hands together, and walking in front of the table to address the small line of people who were waiting anxiously for the signing to begin.

      “Welcome everyone!  Thank you so much for coming to Elodey Sawyer’s first book signing in New Jersey!  We’re excited to see you and hope you all enjoy! Without further ado:  Elodey Sawyer!”  She stepped back and there I was sitting in front of a group of woman ranging from the age of twenty to seventy, all smiles and excitement.  I gave them a small wave before the first one pushed her way to my table throwing a book on the table and instantly began to chatter away about her love for the book.

      As I signed the book I’d nod and give a comment here and there to confirm or deny her curiosities.  Then the next one came up, and this continued for three hours.  Three hours of being the center of everyone’s attention.