Preparation is key.

My daughter was alarmed by the reference I made in yesterday's post about having a tattoo.  To clarify - I do not and never will have a tattoo.  It's not because I don't like them.  I am just a super chicken when it comes to injecting permanent ink into my skin.  Super, super chicken.  It's not that I'm afraid of pain.  I have a high pain tolerance.  I've had two kids.  I can handle things.  But it's the ink...in my skin...forever...too freaky for me.

Moving on.

Tonight I spent most of my evening procrastinating.  I have to finish the first chapter of April Undercover (SO MUCH FUN).  I need to finish my short story for class (not as much fun, because the story is kind of weird).  AND I have to write out what I'm going to say at the book signing in November.

I'M DOING A BOOK SIGNING IN NOVEMBER.  *cough  With ebooks.  So it's more like BOOK-MARK signing.  Which I'm more than fine with.

(It's November 17th at 2pm at the Westlake, California Barnes and Noble.  Come one.  Come all.)

I'm perfecting the panic attack.  I think it's actually good for my skin.  The excess sweat makes me look glowy, which I think gives me an attractive sheen.

I would like to be prepared for the signing by coming up with witty comments about my life as a writer, but instead I made an appointment with the dentist.  So my teeth will be white.  Which means if all else fails I can just smile and nod.  Like the Queen of England.  Smile, wave, smile, wave, smirk, adjust my hat, jump out of a helicopter with James Bond...mmmmmmm Bond.

I did do some research into e-publishing.  Why would an author choose to publish themselves?

Because...(a) all writers are certifiably insane, (b) writers are egomaniacs who must share their work with the world or perish alone, weeping on the floor of a cold stone castle in Scotland, surrounded by empty wine bottles and tattered copies of Twilight, with chocolate wrappers stuck to their foreheads, or (c) because we can.

I'm going with (b).