I meander through the aisles of books. Sometimes it's a bit depressing, a constant barrage of, "I could do that. Why am I not there?" Today, I looked at it in a new light. Every book on those shelves represented a dream come true. For each one, there was a day when that phone call came of, "Can I represent you?" or "Such-and-such a house has picked it up!"
And then I turned the corner and saw a friend from church. Most awkward conversation ever. My head was somewhere very far from the library, and I was answering late. "Uh-huh. Yeah. Yeah. Uh-huh." She asked if I was here getting books, and I said, "Yeah." Honestly, what else do you do in a library, anyway? I have Rock, Paper, Tiger, by Lisa Brackman, here in my hand.
After that question, you're supposed to show off your book, extol its greatness (or reviews of its greatness), and give the other person the history between you and the book. Except my history is awkward.
"Um, I read about it on a blog. 'Cause I read blogs - a lot of blogs - you know. I write one, too. I've met so many blogging people and they're really cool. Anyway, there's a lot of agents that write blogs and Nathan Bransford - he's a really popular agent blogger - has been promoting Rock, Paper, Tiger (that's this book) on his blog, because one of his clients wrote it. And I just happened to see it on the new shelf and was like, 'Hey, I should read that.' So, um, yeah."So, um, no. I have my socially awkward limits. (No, really, I do.)
So, does your head enter the clouds when your body enters the library? Any awkward moments in the library having to do with the book you're carrying but didn't want to explain? (Or, if you're a socially perfect person, have you read any books lately that the blog-o-sphere introduced to you? How were they?)