To launch my debut novel, Then, Again, I scheduled a half dozen events at bookstores in Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, and Kentucky. I'm currently halfway through this mini tour, and I can say, without any hesitation, that I. Love. Doing. These. Events.

Talking about a novel I wrote? That I spent years of my life writing and editing and fixing and improving? That's clearly about topics I'm passionate about because you cannot spend 90,000+ words on any topic unless you're deeply passionate about it? Girl, bring it on.
But I was ... "hesitant" isn't the right word, because it implies I considered not following through or not scheduling events to begin with. "Scared" may be more accurate. I had no idea what to expect! There's a very real sense of ... "Wait, are you SURE you want to listen to ME discuss a bunch of stuff I MADE UP" It's not impostor syndrome--I'm comfortable wearing the badge of writer/author. But it's a dubiousness that folks care about what I have to say. (My goodness, that sounds terrible. Aren't we all such fragile creatures?)
After three events, with three to go (for now!), here are some of my takeaways:
Answering questions from the audience is the freaking coolest. At my event in Fort Wayne, a lot of folks wanted to discuss something in particular. Seeing what resonated with another person, getting to discuss fiction with someone who's really into it? UGH, bring it on.
So far, at all three events, my husband has kicked off the audience Q&A portion of things. That is both spectacularly sweet and deeply special to me.
Feeling nervous sucks. Like, a lot. I'm not an anxious person, but the night before my first event, I felt anxiety like liquid pushing all the blood from my veins and taking over my limbs. I felt something similar in the leadup to my book party, and a good friend told me, "Do a shot. It helps." I thought he was joking, but poured myself a finger or two of scotch the night before reading No. 1. He was right; it helped, a little.
Before reading No. 2, however, I was so chill, I took a nap in the car on the drive there. Admittedly, this was my hometown reading. I want to say I was excited, because I was, but again, I fell asleep on the car ride. I think the prevailing emotion was more "at peace" and "content."
Nerves came back a week ago, though considerably less than the first time. They melted away when I walked in The Book Cellar and saw so many amazing humans--my aunt and uncle, a dear college friend I haven't seen in over a decade, my cousin, a contingent from the writing retreat I took in March to India, work friends, a favorite friend, friends of friends, some faces I didn't recognize ... Y'all, I will never stop singing it loudly: I have the most spectacular community.
(click the photos to expand)
People have asked here and there, "Why are you nervous?" And I've struggled to answer that, to pinpoint a reason that I feel like I'm going to mess up. I think, perhaps, I've come up with something: My biggest, No. 1 fear related to an author event is ... What if, during the Q&A with my interlocutor, they ask me something I don't know. How embarrassing! To be interviewed about something I wrote and to forget a detail or be unsure how I did X or why I thought of Y? Yikes.
Being able to pinpoint that fear, though, helped; I'm in marketing for my day job. I do PR and have done PR in some form since 2013. And I watch people get interviewed, and I see how they handle a question they don't know or don't want to answer. And you know how they do it? They don't answer the question that's asked; they answer the question they wish they were asked.
Which, on first glance, feels deceitful. But let's be real: I'm not participating in a presidential debate. Dodging a question, for me, does not have national and global implications.
Thank goodness.
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