I read somewhere that at Abi Titmuss's recent book signing, only three people showed up.
Eeek. That is so going to be me on Saturday, when I do mine, I just know it. What seemed like a good idea at the time will see me all alone in the corner of Waterstones, with kind, pitying looks from the staff, being completely ignored and shunned by customers. I'll have to text LP and beg him to please come in and pretend he doesn't know me, and.. Oh, the shame.
The thought of such a scenario has prompted me to take to the streets with a sack-load of fliers, advertising the event. I've learned from my mistakes last year and have gone out to pound the pavements in trainers this time rather than high-heeled boots, but am still experiencing the same traumas with bristly draught-excluder letterboxes, the fear that a mad dog is going to bite my fingers off and the paranoia that someone's going to fling their front door open while I'm there and say, "Take this litter away with you!"
It's quite a strange business, going to door after door and trying not to be too nosey about it. When I spy a front room lined with books, I think, Yes, you can have a flier. Whenever I see someone in the front room, even if they're not looking at me, I avoid that house, for fear of the above. Gates are a pain, so are steps, so are long drives.
I'll be out again tonight, though. If it means avoiding the three-book signing shame, I'll do it...
29 years on, nearly there
2 hours ago