Besides The No Talent Thing

Why I Could Never Be A Writer, Reason #76: My memory is like a sieve when it comes to names and faces.

In fact I'm really horrible about it. I'm the sort of person that when you introduce yourself to me, I'm asking you 15 minutes later, "What's your name again?" Honestly, it's not that you aren't an interesting, wonderful, vibrant human being. I'm just a dumb ass. It's sad really. I can remember the vague plot outline of a romance I read and didn't like five years ago, but I can't remember the name of the person I met at a dinner party last night. Alcohol being involved has nothing to do with it. I'm this much of a dumb ass totally sober.

I would say the vast majority of authors I've met are really quite good at this. It's especially impressive in the Internet age. Because honestly, how much of "personal interaction" is Internet-only these days? Dang, I know I get a ton of e-mail - and I'm sure authors get even more! Names only, no faces. Imagine trying to keep all that straight!

When I go to conferences my name badge tends to read Wendy MyLastName, My Cool Job Title, My Place of Employment. It does not say "Super Librarian," and I really don't advertise it. Why? For one thing, I just don't think I'm all that and a bag of chips. Yes, I've been blogging a long time, but I wouldn't say the traffic on this site is off the charts. And that's just dandy by me. I didn't start blogging for the "traffic" and don't keep it up for the "traffic." I blog because I like it. Oh, and I'm a dork.

I'm also, bless my soul, a bit of a "fan." Even for authors I don't read, have never read, and might never read. Period. One such star-struck moment happened last year at RWA when I saw Judith McNaught. Judith McNaught people! I've never read one of her books. I'll be honest, the desire ain't there for me. But still - Judith McNaught! As The Boyfriend would say, "Cripes you're such a book dork." (Me, petulantly, "Yeah, well you're a book dork lover!")

Which brings us to the memorable moments at BEA. I stood in line to see Susan Wiggs, who was autographing ARCs of her upcoming contemporary, Just Breathe. Wiggs is one of my favorite historical writers, and many years ago (geez, at least 7 or 8 now), I corresponded with her via e-mail. A small book group I was hosting at the former job was reading "Michigan" books and I convinced them all to read The Hostage (which starts in Chicago, but the bulk of the story takes place on an island in Lake Superior). Wiggs sent me some giveaways, I sent her our discussion questions. End of story. So imagine my surprise when I see her at BEA and the first words out of her mouth are "OMGosh Wendy! How are you?" I haven't seen this woman, spoken to her, or even e-mailed her in years. And she remembered me. Sharp as a tack that one is.

And for those of you who care (yeah, I asked) she is interested in writing more historicals, but there's the small matter of finding the time. Her contemporaries are really keeping her busy. This came as no surprise to me, because I've seen her library circulation numbers steadily increase with each new Lakeshore Chronicles book. I'm thinking if her library stats are that good, her sales numbers must be quite healthy.

Then we get to moment where I was floored. Julia Quinn. I've never met Julia Quinn before. Never e-mailed her. Nothing. She was there signing copies of The Lost Duke of Wyndham. I get to the front of the line and say, "You can make it out to Wendy," to which she says, "Are you the Super Librarian?" Um, yeah. Then she asks if she can make the book out to "Wendy The Super Librarian." At this point I'm thinking she can make it out to Zulu The Wonder Dog because all that's going through my mind is "OMG - Julia Quinn knows who I am!"

Honestly, it takes so little blow my mind. I still get a giddy thrill knowing that Nora Roberts occasionally reads my blog. Hell, I was floored when I found out Margaret Moore gets a kick of my rantings about the Tigers. Who knew?

Which I guess goes to show that you never know who is reading your blog and not commenting. Hey we all do it. I read a slew of blogs that I never comment on. I think we all need to get in touch with our inner-lurker and give them a big old hug.

Which concludes my gushing fangirl post for today. Honestly, I promise not to make a habit out of it. The Bat Cave will return to our regularly scheduled program with the next blog post. Promise.