After a busy weekend that featured multiple events and commitments on the same day, I thought I'd take a few moments to sit down and relax. Of course, that lasted less than a heartbeat before it turned into capturing some of my thoughts. So out came the keyboard.
The biggest thing on the weekend was a street-wide yard sale. Eight neighbors got together to fill their lawns, driveways, and carports with everything from baby clothes to antique furniture. Taking over my mother-in-laws carport, our tables featured local items -- memorabilia, postcards, ceramics. Four boxes of history books were out, and front and center in the middle of the card table, my own two books on the town.
My husband, who became the official greeter for the day collected the interests of those walking up and directed them to the appropriate table. And those who expressed a local interest or were from the town, the first question was "Did you know about the books?" Or tell them what picture in them would be of interest. Each person would then look at me with reflective assessment. "You're the author?"
And in the midst of the discussions, strange looks, and once the surprise or mis- identification was corrected, one thought kept coming to my mind. How could they tell I was an author if not told.
One and only one answer yelled, "It's me."
I was the only one with a folder full of a printed manuscript on my lap (had to use the time, have two books in final edits, a third being tidied up, and two stories still not finished for a Veteran's Day release.)
More often, however, I'm the person with the notebook in my hand, jotting down storylines, or during the yard sale, descriptions of those who stopped by, or just passed by from the early birds pounding on the door at 6 AM to the looky loos.
Or my personal favorites, the "Know-it-alls." They all had an identical line. "You have nice stuff. What are you asking for the entire collection/table/armfull of XXX?" And their response to the quoted price. "I"m a dealer and know the prices. They have come down." And they proceeded to counter with a penny on a thousand.
To be answered with a polite, "I"m sorry. I already have three organizations I can give the material away to for free. Thank you for stopping by."
And as far as the dealers, they left empty handed and the items they wanted for nothing went home with someone who really wanted it--and who having paid at least a little something, valued it more.
If so inclined, leave a comment as to how people know you're a writer.
~Till next time, Helen