I had a thought. I sold quite a few books this weekend at the Los Angeles Times Book Fair, more than I figured I would. But Michael Connelly, Robert Crais, and Harlan Coban—name brand authors—sold hundreds more than I did. Long lines formed wherever they appeared and their hands were a blur as they scribbled their names on the flyleaf of their latest masterpiece. But here's where I got them beat. Each one of the nice people who bought my book, with only a few exceptions, was new to my work. I made new fans and they each walked away with, not only a copy or two of a Jimmy O'Brien saga, but a business card, a bookmark, and a handshake. People who waited in the long lines for Connelly and company would've bought their books anyway. And, no one, when facing their literary idol, would say, "Okay, Michael, just what is this book about?" or "Hey, what kind of name is Hieronymus, anyhow?" The lines had to keep moving.
Although, the big guys sold a lot more books than I did, I had more fun, I'm sure. I talked to each one of my new fans, telling them about my characters, or the plot, maybe the setting, and most of them promised to send me an email, giving their opinion of my story when they were finished reading my book. Yeah, I had a lot of fun.
Oh, one more thing my new fans walked away with, a heartfelt thanks.