The Day approacheth!
August 13th is The Day. Barnes & Noble, West Gate Mall, St Louis (still figuring out the exact hour). My first Book Concert event on my long and winding book concert tour.
I will no doubt have some badgers in my gut and butterfly flutterings in my chestal regions as I approach the Mall. But I’ll be cool. I’m going to handle it like a Viking raid. First I’ll scout the store, dressed as a sheepherder…ok, not a sheepherder, but maybe as a guy with a baseball hat and sunglasses. There’s the store…where do signings take place? Ok…Do they have my posters up? Where’s my book displayed? Ah, up by the registers: good work! I’ll casually retreat to the parking lot, taking time to pretend I’m checking out crankbaits in the Bass Pro outlet and a frilly little thing in Victoria’s Secret (she’s way too young, but I have my dark shades on), peel off the fake goatee and Cardinal’s cap, and don my rock star apparel.
Not too over the top, but I don’t want to look like everyone else, do I? Who wants to buy a rock book written by your next-door neighbor? A little more hair product, the squeeze-into jeans (one, two, three—exhale, button fast, gird belt, breathe again) shirt untucked (who needs to see that little flabulous roll around my middle? Nobody, that’s who), a fashionable hip blazer (dang, it is so hot in August in St Louis), guitar over my shoulder, effects pedal board in its briefcase, bag of posters, box of t-shirts, cartons of CD’s. Wait…that’s too much for me to carry in one run. OK, bring in the posters and CD’s and t-shirts first, while dressed as a sheepherder/roadie. Maybe I should hire an intern…
“Oh, Anastasia, would you carry these posters and t-shirts and these CD’s and that life-size cardboard cutout and put them up for me? Also, my back sure is sore”. OK, a 23-yeard-old female Ukrainian intern is probably not allowed. If I’d only had another son in between my 32 -year-old and my 8- year-old. My 20- year-old son would have been a perfect helper. Too late to turn back time now. I’ll plan my procreation better in future lives.
Who would have known I’d be up to such shenanigans in this time of my life, anyway? I should be playing golf and driving around my RV, walking my poodle at rest stops in the Sunbelt with the other plaid and rayon-clad retirees. OK, nahhhh! That’s not me, anyway. I have a new thing, a new passion that’s really my childhood passion: telling stories. It is so much fun. And despite the butterflies, I know when I get up in front of people I will be in my shining, fun element.
And I won’t look like a sheepherder or a Viking….kind of a mellow rocker who’s seen a thing or twelve.
Meet me in St Louis, Louie ( & Louise!)!