I told my best mate to go in front of me as we lined up at the Brisbane Writers Festival signing table. My friend got her copy signed and stepped off to the side while remaining with in ear shot.
I passed my freshly purchased book over the signing table and into the hands of the woman who wrote it. “That talk you just gave in Auditorium two was awesome!”
She humbly says thank you and holds the book up like a cop comparing a driver’s license to a living face. She laughs. “The cover matches your hair!”
It’s true. The book’s luminescent green and royal blue sky match my latest dye job, the shade appropriately labelled as “blueberry pop.”
As she flips open to the title page she asks if I’m a writer. I say yes and we spend the next few minutes talking about my MS. When she hands the book back, I exited the line to find my friend.
“You’re so good at talking! If I haven’t read the book, I never know what to say.” My mate said, then I explained how I felt like a total dipshit for talking about my work while she (the author) was the one in the signing seat.
Image: Signing book by Endless Studios