Feeling Self-Important
Sep. 29th, 2008 12:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lydamorehouse... because a very famous agent/author totally schmoozed *me* last night.
Okay, honestly, he was very nice. He was in town doing his "How to Sell a Billion Books" shtick at the Midwest Fiction Writers "Harvest Festival" last night, and as part of that we had a sort of "mass autographing session" with me and a bunch of other MFW published authors (I only put that in quotes because a) everyone was really there to buy that certain somebody's book, and b) there were really only about four of us other authors who could make it, which does not really qualify as "mass" in most people's opinion.) Anyway, though like a lot of people I enjoy meeting famous people, I was really kind of hoping he'd sit somewhere else other than right next to me. I've had the experience being the *other* author at a number of signings (one with Lois McMaster Bujold, another with Neil Gaiman,) and it's always so... depressing to see the other guy's ENORMOUS line, watch his/her books disappearing at a phenomenonal rate, while you sit there and reorganize your books and listen to the sound of crickets. Of course, he sat right next to me.
I was totally bummed, and very quitely muttered about the indignity of it all to a colleague.
But then, when the line thinned, he turned to me and told me how he'd seen my books EVERYWHERE and how much he loved the "packaging" (a publishing term for how your book looks -- it's cover, the interior font, etc.) We chatted for a little, and finally he asked, "So who's your agent?" and I thought, "Whoa? Seriously? Are you asking or are you *asking*?" Of course, I told him, and then he rather disappointedly said, "Well, you're in good hands then."
Damn straight.
Still, I felt pretty flattered, even if he was just being nice and not really trying to woo me away from my current agent. It makes a girl's heart flutter to think a Midwestern nobody like me can capture the attention of a big New York superstar, you know?
In other news, I'm still ridiculously overbooked -- oh, and add to that get ready for class on Wednesday. Ugh. I had to turn down hanging out with a friend just now so that I can try to get this damn short story done by deadline.
Okay, honestly, he was very nice. He was in town doing his "How to Sell a Billion Books" shtick at the Midwest Fiction Writers "Harvest Festival" last night, and as part of that we had a sort of "mass autographing session" with me and a bunch of other MFW published authors (I only put that in quotes because a) everyone was really there to buy that certain somebody's book, and b) there were really only about four of us other authors who could make it, which does not really qualify as "mass" in most people's opinion.) Anyway, though like a lot of people I enjoy meeting famous people, I was really kind of hoping he'd sit somewhere else other than right next to me. I've had the experience being the *other* author at a number of signings (one with Lois McMaster Bujold, another with Neil Gaiman,) and it's always so... depressing to see the other guy's ENORMOUS line, watch his/her books disappearing at a phenomenonal rate, while you sit there and reorganize your books and listen to the sound of crickets. Of course, he sat right next to me.
I was totally bummed, and very quitely muttered about the indignity of it all to a colleague.
But then, when the line thinned, he turned to me and told me how he'd seen my books EVERYWHERE and how much he loved the "packaging" (a publishing term for how your book looks -- it's cover, the interior font, etc.) We chatted for a little, and finally he asked, "So who's your agent?" and I thought, "Whoa? Seriously? Are you asking or are you *asking*?" Of course, I told him, and then he rather disappointedly said, "Well, you're in good hands then."
Damn straight.
Still, I felt pretty flattered, even if he was just being nice and not really trying to woo me away from my current agent. It makes a girl's heart flutter to think a Midwestern nobody like me can capture the attention of a big New York superstar, you know?
In other news, I'm still ridiculously overbooked -- oh, and add to that get ready for class on Wednesday. Ugh. I had to turn down hanging out with a friend just now so that I can try to get this damn short story done by deadline.