In the "Thank God it won't be happening this year" department…

by Diane Duane

Just (via Blog of a Bookslut: thanks, Jessa — ) came across this Telegraph article about — let’s call it what it is — signing envy. An ugly thing, especially if you catch yourself at it.

Never having been at this end of the whole book-festival process, it hadn’t occurred to me that book-signing is a competitive sport.

Like penalty shoot-outs, only longer, more boring and with added hate.

…But will anyone bother writing about what it’s like for the person at the other end of the table at these double acts? — when you’re the one signing book after book after book after book after book after book, without a pause, hardly having time to breathe, while the whole time you’re sharing the table with another writer, who is not approached by a single human being, and who sits there desperately trying to make cheerful conversation to cover up how increasingly miserable they’re feeling? When the poor soul next to you might as well have tumbleweed blowing past them, through the aching empty expanse in which no one even glances in their direction?

— and you, sitting there, signing away for all you’re worth and smiling at the signees until you think your face is going to crack, are practically expiring with embarrassment and pity for the brave and wretched person sitting next to you. If you get a few minutes to do so, you usually find yourself driven to tell them all your horror stories — the time the same thing that’s happening to them now, happened to you: the even worse time that, not only did no one show up at the signing, but even the bookstore had forgotten it — but it doesn’t really help. The other person suffers. You suffer. And you’re so glad to escape when it’s over. It’s so, so terrible.

The experience is only a shade less horrible for you at a “gang bang”, where you’re sitting with about six other writers. But the more writers there are at that table, the more unbearable it gets for the lone soul whose presence at the signing wasn’t properly advertised, or whatever, and who sits there playing with their pen and attempting to be brightly interested in everything else that’s going on around them. Argh, anguish…

At least the only signing space I’ve got this time out is at the kaffeeklatsch. I fall at the feet of LACon IV programming in gratitude.

But, people, if you see one, be kind to that poor person at the lonely other end of the table…

[tags]Worldcon, World Science Fiction Convention, autograph session, signing session[/tags]

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