Last night was my book launch party. It's a very small town in a low-income area, but I counted on having at least twenty there, friends who would support my publishing efforts and hand over a check even though they seldom buy hardcover books and probably not romances. I'd presold books as Christmas gifts and figured that most of those who wanted one had gone that route, so my sales would be low.
We ran out of books. Twice! The ones I brought sold, then my husband brought in another carton from the car (he's always thinking ahead), and finally my brother-in-law went back to the house and brought the rest. I ended up with a list of folks who've paid for a book and have to wait until I can get another shipment.
It's enough to turn my head if I didn't know better. On the one hand, I hang out (on line and at conferences) with authors who sell a book a year and still aren't well-known or making money. On the other hand, it was great to bask for an hour in the praise of those who've read the book and the anticipation of those waiting in line to buy it. A real, live novelist from our small town is something out of the ordinary. (The fact that I taught EVERY student in the high school from 1979 to 2002 contributes as well.) It will probably never happen to me again, because the second book, if it happens, will not be the novelty (sorry about the pun) that Macbeth's Niece is for my friends and family. Still, it's inspiring and heartening to experience success on any level. And last night I savored every minute of it.
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