BEA, the 2012 version

This time Book Expo America was the first book world thing that I’d done before. Last year’s was Baby’s First Book Event, so this year was deja vu all over again. (BEA 2011 was recapped epically here & here. This post will not be as epic.)

The weather yet again toyed with me but I managed better this year. Last year as I was packing it was freezing in Massachusetts so I packed boots and things with sleeves and then in NYC it was roasting hot and humid. This year I kept looking at the ever changing weather and even though I waited until the last possible minute the weather report was still daunting, 60s & rainy predicted for pretty much the whole week. I packed sandals and things without sleeves and layers anyway, and I think in retrospect I succeeded admirably.

I did need my one dress with sleeves for the Knopf Doubleday party, which was lovely and I got to see lots of lovely booksellers (including ones I’d met before, which was something akin to having familiar books on shelves only with more hugging) and I got to meet Ian McEwan and Chris Bohjalian and Deb Perelman of smitten kitchen. (People kept explaining to me who Deb was and I kept telling them that I already knew & I’m delighted that I got an advance copy of her cookbook. The party food was all from her book and oh, so delicious.)

It was a busier night than I’d expected and when squished in the middle of the crowd I momentarily regretted the dress with sleeves decision but overall it was splendid if slightly surreal, since it was held at the same venue as last year when I was overwhelmed and scared and still trying to wrap my head around the fact that people were reading my book already. I had feathers in my hair and they managed to stay there through the entire evening.

 

The next day was my proper busy BEA day and I got to wander the Javits a bit before my signing, just to soak in the bookishness. My dress was very pale pink, to mess with the circus color scheme system.

Minutes before my signing I found out that Ray Bradbury had passed away. And while I was still mid-sad face I was asked for a response by USA Today which is how I ended up sad-face babbling about Something Wicked This Way Comes and quoted in their article. I never met him, but I’ll miss him. He lived on my bookshelf. He still does.

I truly wasn’t expecting my signing to be that busy, being last year’s news and all, but to my surprise there was a huge line. I was signing freshly baked paperbacks:

A gigantic thank you to everyone who stood and waited. Last year was a bit overwhelming and of course most people hadn’t yet read the book, so it was wonderful to re-experience that with more signing experience (if anyone has a 2011 & 2012 version to compare you will likely notice that my signature has lost several letters and become more glyph-like, though I am still crossing the t) and with more people having read the book. Someone did ask me what it was about and I think I looked at them funny. Sorry.

After my Random House booth signing I went and signed things at the Librarian’s Lounge which was apparently a corral for librarians in which librarians were given cookies and allowed to sit, which seems like a good deal in the middle of the Javits. We ran out of books which I felt badly about but it was lovely to meet so many librarians and be allowed in the librarian-only lounge, I felt special.

Then I went and had sushi with my editor and thought about going back to the Javits afterwards but then taking off my shoes was more appealing.

This is my fairly modest book haul. I had some help with it since I was busy and trying to focus in the sensory overload wonderland that is the Javits Center during BEA is not my strong suit.

I’ve read (and adored, as you’ll be able to tell from the quote on the cover) The Vanishing Act by Mette Jakobsen which is a debut novel that comes out in September. The rest will be added to the ever-growing to-read pile but hopefully I’ll have some time over the summer to curl up and do nothing but read.

Let’s see, what else did I do during the whirlwind that was BEA?

I had drinks with my US editor and my Canadian editor at the same time. I’ve never even seen them in the same country before so that was all looking-glass magical.

I wanted to get back over to the Javits again just to wander more but I never had time, unfortunately. There were many people I wanted to say hello to and never got the chance.

I went to see Sleep No More for the 10th time. The nurse whisked me away and locked me in a room and wrapped me in a blanket and I promised not to tell what happened after that. It was just as wondrous and dreamlike as always. I keep saying I don’t have to go back but then I always find myself back at the McKittrick Hotel again.

Also, I broke my eyeglasses. Not sure how I managed that but they’re missing a screw so I need to get them fixed. In the meantime I have my old ones with the only slightly out of date prescription and my contacts.

So, that was my week. It seemed longer and busier but there were also meetings and drinks and dinners (Alta has the best tapas and also really strong sangria) and the sun did stay out most of the time. It was strange and lovely and felt circular in a lot of ways, having a whole year of this being an author thing. Still don’t really have the hang of it but I think I’m getting better.

Until next time, BEA.

flax-golden tales: the chandelier rebellion

the chandelier rebellion

The chandeliers went on strike but no one noticed, assuming it was the age of the wiring or faulty bulbs and not a calculated withholding of light.

The list of demands appeared on the dining room table on a Thursday morning. It was a comparatively short list. Regular polishing. Appropriate use of dimmer switches and more frequent dinner parties.

The household was given until the following Monday to comply or respond in writing.

Only everyone who read the list thought it was a joke, though no one would admit to writing it. By Thursday evening it had been crumpled and thrown away.

On Monday morning the chandeliers pulled themselves down from the ceiling and walked out of the house.

They still haven’t come back.

 

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.

june is audiobook month

I don’t listen to as many audiobooks as I’d like to but I still flipped when I found out that Jim Dale was going to narrate the audio version of The Night Circus. For a few reasons, including the fact that he narrated the short-lived but beloved-by-me Pushing Daisies and also he was Barnum in Barnum and I was a clown (seriously) in a production of Barnum when I was in high school. (Seriously, it involved pink and yellow polkadots and I had pigtails, and is likely one of many reasons there are no clowns in my circus.)

He has the most fantastic storyteller voice. If you haven’t heard it, have a listen:

 

I love the audio of The Night Circus so much I sometimes want to rig my iPod at readings so Jim Dale can read instead of me. He does all the accents, while I avoid reading the sections with lots of dialogue.

(Jim also narrates all the Harry Potter audiobooks. You know, if you haven’t read Harry Potter or want to have someone re-read them to you. That’d be a fun June is Audiobook Month activity, I’m just sayin’.)

So, in summary: I can’t believe it’s June already and listening to books is like childhood bedtime stories all over again and if you haven’t listened to an audiobook in a while, it is a perfect summery month to do so.

 

flax-golden tales: keeping time

keeping time

I put time away.

I locked it in a cabinet. An old cabinet, painted to look older than it is, with a lock and a key. I put the key on a chain around my neck.

The cabinet has a glass door so I can see inside to check that time is still there.

I want to be sure it doesn’t get away from me again.

I put time away so it would stop.

So everything will remain just as it is.

As it was.

So you can stay.

 

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.