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Contrary to some people's gloomy predictions, I had a wonderful time at BEA. I arrived late, as my editor had my badge and she was delayed, so by the time I got there they had already handed out lots and lots of my book. I didn't quite realize how this works at BEA until I actually got there, but each publisher is only handing out a couple of books, so the books that are picked for hand-outs are getting a lot of attention focused on them.
The books Rodale had picked as give-aways were mine and a memoir by an American woman who spent a year in Japan, Japanland. She wasn't there, though. So I stood at the beautifully arranged spiral stack of copies of my book, and as booksellers, librarians, book reviewers, and mooching authors walked by, an ever-changing array of Rodale publicists, marketing people, assistants, and my editor hand-sold the books and pointed out that the author was here and would sign them. So I ended up signing-- I don't know how many copies, but lots-- so lines formed, and Rodale people had to take out more boxes and unpack them, and finally someone called me aside and said they wanted to save some copies for Saturday, and so they weren't going to replenish the stack once the last one of that set had been handed out. Then I went running around grabbing free books.
I wore the pewter Ralph Lauren shirt with black pants and a kimono jacket with koi embroidered on it, black on black. Several people commented favorably. I wore the bronze-and-black embroidered sleeveless dress to the Rodale party. Thanks for suggesting those-- indeed, the party was hot and BEA was cold.
Anyway, it was all wonderful and exciting and way beyond what I'd ever imagined, until I took my haul of what seemed like fifty pounds of books outside at the end of the day, intending to call a taxi so I wouldn't have to lug them to the subway and then on to the subway. Except it was raining, I had no umbrella, and there were no taxis to be had. I finally bonded with a woman who had one, and went walking around, in search of a taxi. The streets were choked with desperate BEA people trying to hail taxis. One woman ran up to a car and said, "I'll give you thirty dollars if you can give me a ride to the nearest subway station!" We tried bribing an off-duty cabbie-- hey, at least it wasn't a random civilian-- but he said it was illegal for him to give us a ride because he was from New Jersey. I don't understand that.
We ended up walking all the way to Port Authority. I did not see a single person successfully hail a cab. Then I had to walk something like three long blocks inside the Port Authority Station to get to my subway. The straps on my bag kept breaking. It was nightmarish.
However, now I'm back at the hotel and have recovered enough to contemplate venturing out for dinner. I look forward to a quiet night of Angel viewing.
The books Rodale had picked as give-aways were mine and a memoir by an American woman who spent a year in Japan, Japanland. She wasn't there, though. So I stood at the beautifully arranged spiral stack of copies of my book, and as booksellers, librarians, book reviewers, and mooching authors walked by, an ever-changing array of Rodale publicists, marketing people, assistants, and my editor hand-sold the books and pointed out that the author was here and would sign them. So I ended up signing-- I don't know how many copies, but lots-- so lines formed, and Rodale people had to take out more boxes and unpack them, and finally someone called me aside and said they wanted to save some copies for Saturday, and so they weren't going to replenish the stack once the last one of that set had been handed out. Then I went running around grabbing free books.
I wore the pewter Ralph Lauren shirt with black pants and a kimono jacket with koi embroidered on it, black on black. Several people commented favorably. I wore the bronze-and-black embroidered sleeveless dress to the Rodale party. Thanks for suggesting those-- indeed, the party was hot and BEA was cold.
Anyway, it was all wonderful and exciting and way beyond what I'd ever imagined, until I took my haul of what seemed like fifty pounds of books outside at the end of the day, intending to call a taxi so I wouldn't have to lug them to the subway and then on to the subway. Except it was raining, I had no umbrella, and there were no taxis to be had. I finally bonded with a woman who had one, and went walking around, in search of a taxi. The streets were choked with desperate BEA people trying to hail taxis. One woman ran up to a car and said, "I'll give you thirty dollars if you can give me a ride to the nearest subway station!" We tried bribing an off-duty cabbie-- hey, at least it wasn't a random civilian-- but he said it was illegal for him to give us a ride because he was from New Jersey. I don't understand that.
We ended up walking all the way to Port Authority. I did not see a single person successfully hail a cab. Then I had to walk something like three long blocks inside the Port Authority Station to get to my subway. The straps on my bag kept breaking. It was nightmarish.
However, now I'm back at the hotel and have recovered enough to contemplate venturing out for dinner. I look forward to a quiet night of Angel viewing.
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*does a happy dance for Rachel*
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I just thought your profile sounded interesting so friended you to keep in touch with your journey with your new book.
The BEA sounded like a wonderful experience minus the taxi problem of course.
Good luck and I hope it's a best seller for you!
Christina
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I hope Cleolinda's book is a bestseller too.
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[vicarious pleasure]