Saturday was the best day ever. Right up there with the Friday when I got an offer of representation and the Thursday when we sold the book. But Saturday. Oh...sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph, it was awesome.
Awesome (this one must be sung in your girliest falsetto)!
It started out normal enough, book release anxiety knifing into my sleep and plopping me onto the couch at the butt-crack of dawn, followed by the shuffling around a dark kitchen trying to make coffee in a machine designed for NASA scientists. This is normally accompanied by a gut wrenching stress-induced diarrhea that warbles through me bowels like bad opera. Grumbling. Curses. F-bombs.
Caroline slept in, dreading, as I was, a semi-formal charity auction that would eat away our evening. She would be at the salon for three hours and since I'd seen the book (Happy Hour of the Damned: zombies, smut, cocktails, what else do you need to know?) popping up on people's blogs and knew I'd be dwelling on that all day, I got a friend to ride along to a couple of book stores.
The first one, not so much, and I wasn't holding up a whole lot of hope about the second. So when we arrived I scanned the new trade tables and not seeing anything wandered toward the shelves. When...
"It's right here!" friend yelled.
And they weren't lying. A whole stack of 'em, sitting right next door to Lisa Lutz's THE SPELLMAN FILES--which is this totally adorable mystery, we've been reading for our book club. And there was Happy Hour, right next to hers. I got a little weak in the knees.
It wasn't like it was the first time I'd seen the book. My editor is a gracious guy and as I write this guest blog, I'm surrounded by 80 copies (which is insane, what am I doing with them?). The first time was oddly anti-climactic. I checked it over to see that the changes were made from the ARC, but that was pretty much it.
I'm certain, it's because books were meant to be seen in their natural habitat, because I was like a new father in a nursery. Even to the point of being completely flushed. I walked over to the information gal (it was a Borders so they had one of those freestanding desk areas) and told her that I kinda had a book over on the tables and I could sign them if she wanted.
I was so surprised that she actually got excited. Even enlisted the help of another book guy to gather all the books (I know, plural, can you believe that shit). They had like ten of them. I might as well have snorted a line of coke. I was high. Signing wildly. My friend taking pictures on her camera phone and sending them off. It was insane.
Then they asked me to come back to do an "Event". What? Are you kidding? What?
It was awesome. Pure and simple.
I'm almost ashamed to tell you that after the charity auction thing, a group of us stopped by another Borders and did it again.
MARK HENRY was a psychotherapist before he did a 180 to torture minds with his fiction. He lives in the Pacific Northwest with his wife, three furry monsters that think they're children, and a waterboard, in case Goody Jeri comes a-calling. His debut novel, HAPPY HOUR OF THE DAMNED, is a zombie comedy in urban fantasy clothing. Visit him at his website at http://markhenry.us.
Monday, February 25, 2008
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