Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Worry is like a rocking chair. Keeps you busy; gets you nowhere.
By Deborah Sharp
I've found another thing to worry about as my book's October debut draws near.
It's a testament to my fretting powers that I could come up with something new, given my many present concerns. There's hurricane season, a fear of horrible reviews, and the possibility that my fellow Florida voters will fail to select a president -- again -- and the ensuing media firestorm will ensure that no one pays any attention to my funny little set-in-Florida mystery.
Anyway, smearage is my current worry. If you're left-handed, you understand: ink all over the trailing, pinky-edge of your hand; an inky smear on the page, obscuring whatever you'd intended to write. I took notes in pencil for 20 years as a reporter because of smearage.
So, how am I supposed to sign books, sans smearage? Any advice from fellow lefties about truly smear-free pens?
I have to warn you, though, even if someone posts an inspired answer to this problem, other imagined crises will keep my "worry chair'' rocking.
Amazon crashes, and all those pre-orders disappear for Mama Does Time (a dozen, easy, considering my husband and I have at least 12 cousins between us).
The truck heading south with my books is hurled off a bridge by a hurricane. Luckily, the driver survives, but my ruined books end up as an artificial reef.
Terrorists hijack the Internet, and I can't get access to my Google calendar or BookTour. I have no idea when or where I'm supposed to sign.
No one shows up for my signings. Or, too many people show, and we have no books.
I open my mouth at my first signing, and no words come out. Plus, I'm naked while everyone else is fully clothed, like those dreams we all had in high school before the big test.
Y'all had those dreams, right?
Point is, even if I lick smearage, another worry will arise. I'm a glass half-empty type . . . OMG, what if we don't have enough wine glasses for my launch party? Or, what if I forget my reading glasses, and I can't even see where to sign? Or, what if someone shatters a glass at a signing and an influential book critic chokes on a sliver . . .
Maybe I'll just sit and rock a while.