In my last post, I wrote about some book signings that had gone pretty well, and how they prompted me to set up some more for a few weeks later. Late November, early December, I figured, thinking it might not be a bad idea to make myself available to Christmas shoppers (personally signed books do make excellent gifts).
Well, now it’s the week after Thanksgiving (my house: lots of family, lots of fun, lots of turkey, lots of work), Christmas is right around the corner, and I’m suddenly realizing that seven of the signings I booked are spread out over the next ten days. Which begs the question: What the heck was I thinking?
Apparently, in the midst of the excitement, I forgot that I actually have a life (such as it is).
While hopefully my presence at the signing tables will solve some gift-list conundrums for mystery lovers and the people who love them, all these signings won’t leave me much time to do my own Christmas shopping (and I doubt the “personally signed books making great gifts” rule holds true if you’re giving your own book as a gift …or do you think I could get away with it?)
It’s not that I don’t enjoy book signings, because for the most part, now I do. Sure, it’s a little awkward mumbling “…forensic mystery series… set in Philadelphia” to anyone who fails to sufficiently avoid eye contact or is lured in by the sight of my little bowl of candies (dark chocolate Hershey’s kisses… who can resist?).

But each time, I’ve met some great people, a particularly valuable perk if you are someone who spends countless hours sitting at a computer lost in a world that exists only within your own head (at least, until you can get someone to publish it).
As this is my second book, I’ve even been able to enjoy that most wonderful occurrence, the glad-to-meet-you first-book-reader who tells you how much they are looking forward to reading the next.

One person even asked, “Are you really D. H. Dublin?” – a particularly existential question if you happen to be writing under a pseudonym. I’m not exactly sure why this person might have doubted I was, in fact, D. H. Dublin (maybe he pictured someone with more of a chin?), but my hesitation as I considered how to answer him probably served to heighten his suspicions. As it turned out, he had already read both of my books and enjoyed them very much – an especially timely ego-boost coming, as it did, after a particularly long streak of successful eye-contact-avoiders.
So, it’ll be a hectic couple of weeks, but it should be fun. I’ll get my shopping done somehow (it’s not like I won’t be near a mall). In the meantime, if, in the next ten days, you happen to find yourself near a bookstore in The Gallery in Center City, Willow Grove Mall, Cherry Hill Mall, Liberty Place, Doylestown, Springfield Mall, or Granite Run Mall, stop in and see me. And if you see my family, tell them I said “Hi.”