Scheduling Hell

By Deborah Sharp

I've been invited to speak at the prestigious Miami Book Fair. That's the good news. The bad news: Organizers have scheduled me opposite Dave Barry, the Pulitzer prize-winning humor columnist, author, and beloved Miami icon.

With 350-plus authors at the fair, they couldn't have found someone a little less intimidating to shove into my same time slot?

Of course, this is the same international book event where in 2008 I fought with Salman Rushdie over the last lemon poppy seed muffin left on the breakfast buffet in the authors' reception room. Long story, but I definitely spotted the muffin first.

Maybe the festival's powers-that-be are punishing me for the muffin incident. I mean, really, the man survived having a fatwa declared against him. Is a little kerfuffle over a breakfast pastry really that big a deal?

Anyhoo, back to Dave Barry. He'll be packing a massive auditorium that Saturday morning, Nov. 20 at 10 am. The sound of belly-laughs and general hilarity will probably ripple all the way across the sprawling campus of Miami Dade College, echoing into the empty classroom where I'm supposed to speak. Room 7128. Did I mention the room is on the bottom floor of the campus parking garage? I can just hear the sound of errant car alarms going off now.

It's not the first time I've dwelled in scheduling hell. I've been slotted opposite the editor and agent panel at Sleuthfest. I lost out to baseball mania in Tampa, when my signing and the Rays first shot at the play-offs fell on the same night. I was trampled once at a Barnes & Noble by fans of the Twilight series, who clambered over my pathetic table to get to the merchandising bonanza tied into that same day's release of Stephanie Meyer's latest.

It's all in the timing, right? At least that's what I told Salman when I snatched the last muffin from under his nose at my first Miami Book Fair.

How about you? What's the worst scheduling snafu you've endured? An outdoor event spoiled by hurricane-force winds? Competing against Michael Connelly at a conference? Put on a panel with someone you hate?

Pay No Attention to the Fake Behind the Curtain

By Deborah Sharp

With a whopping month of signings and book appearances under my new-author belt, it seems like a good time to pose the question: When do I stop feeling like a pretender?

Case in point: I appeared last weekend at the mega-huge Miami Book Fair. My panel was stuck in a building that Miami Dade College actually calls "The Garage,'' but that's another story. Even if they told me to speak in a spot they call "The Bathroom,'' I would have been grateful for the invite.

My co-panelists bandied about hilarious anecdotes about Hollywood, and movie options, and musical superstars who call them at home at midnight. I told my story about the constipated reader who told me how he likes to pass time on the toilet with Mama Does Time.

Now, I did get a laugh. And these much-more-experienced authors were perfectly warm and gracious to me. (Okay, maybe one wasn't perfectly warm). Still, I felt like I was at the Book Fair under false pretenses. Like I lifted a pass to this super-exclusive clubhouse when the real owner wasn't looking. I mean, when I lunged for the last lemon poppy seed muffin left on the breakfast bar in the Authors' Hospitality Suite, I reached right past Salman Rushdie.

Salman Rushdie!

I'll admit, I'm not the most self-confident person on the planet. And, yes, I was on Today (thanks, again, to my slightly pushy TV reporter hubby). But the fact I was on that show somehow makes my raging insecurity worse. The expectations are even higher now. And I'm waiting for the moment the curtain is pulled back to reveal this faker pushing buttons and yanking levers, trying to magically create an author's cloak that fits.

So, two questions: Anybody have the name of a good therapist?
And, if it isn't just me, what was your most insecure moment as a newbie author?