There Are Times When, No, It Couldn’t Be Worse

March 7th, 2005 · 4 Comments
by Booksquare

Our Department of Writing, Business (everyone around here is scrambling to clear desks) alerted us to this article about authors suffering the rite of passage known as book tours. As we read through the story (verbatim accounts of human suffering and other things), it strikes us that not only must you master the synopsis and elevator pitch, but there will come a point where you are required to pull out a clever, possibly pithy, book tour anecdote.

Reason number seven while we will hire someone (probably Jill as she was once a cheerleader and can spell) to pretend to be us, should we be required to appear in public.

The guy in the second row probably isn’t asleep. He has closed his eyes in order to concentrate, in order to savor the delicate rhythms of my sentences. That must be it. I slow down to deadpan velocity, approaching a section that always gets a good laugh. A few sentences into it, he erupts in an unmistakable snore and startles awake; his eyes fly open in panic. He has no idea where he is. (Katharine Weber)

File Under: Square Pegs

4 responses so far ↓

  • Wendi // Mar 7, 2005 at 9:58 pm

    Love the stories from the road. Would you mind if I linked to them in my blog? The Happy Booker

  • booksquare // Mar 7, 2005 at 10:07 pm

    Of course — I’m sure the author of the article would be very happy. Love the name of your site!

  • The Happy Booker // Mar 7, 2005 at 11:32 pm

    Thanks! Come on by for a visit. Add a comment and join the fray.

  • Lorra // Mar 8, 2005 at 9:06 am

    To Catherine Gildiner – I think you did the right thing when you continued reading after the guy died. Some years ago, an elderly man sitting near the stage up and died during the performance by The Cleveland Orchestra of a three-movement symphony. I’d always wondered what would happen if somebody had a heart attack during one of their performances and there it was.
    Rescue squad came with a stretcher and defribillator – did their thing – and so did the conductor. Never flinched, never missed a beat, just kept going. The only people on stage to react were a couple of violinists sitting near the edge/dead guy. Every now and again, they’d take their eyes off the music and glance down, presumably to watch the poor man convulse when they hit him with the defribillator.
    Catherine Gildiner acted in infinitely better taste by waiting for the body to be removed before resuming her performance.