HE WROTE: Do Jenny's Dream of Electric Bobs?

Considering Jenny slept almost the entire way from NY to Natick I am uncertain as to what she is referring. The only times she woke were when I would nudge her carefully awake to do stock signings as we made our way. There were times I would gently say something akin to: "Jenny, I believe there is an injured squirrel over there in the woods. I feel the pain emanating through the ethos of the shared consciousness of all peaceful beings. Perhaps we should stop and render assistance with the tiny little instruments I have brought with me for just such an occurrence." She would mutter something irritable and profane and bury herself deeper into the seat. I took that as a big no and kept driving.

It was snowing when we left New York. We encountered an accident in Yonkers which required a stretcher. Fortunately, despite my offers, the paramedics did not require the use of either my tiny little instruments, not my rasp (a bone saw, which every good Special Forces medic carries and one a medic on my team lent me many years ago figuring one day I might need one for some strange reason). Jenny slept through all this.

It took us five hours to do three stock signings where we signed a total of twenty-three books. That comes out to slightly less than, uh, wait, brain hurts, five books per hour right? No. Better than that. Eight. No three. Hell, I don't know. Such is the glory of the author on the booksigning tour. Pretty exciting fare. We could have done it faster except Jenny was using the map as a pillow.

Last night after the signing in Joisy, we spent a couple of hours (in the exact same room where we took the author photo on the back of DLD) dissecting how we were doing during our talks at the signings using the feedback from 'Needles' and our own impressions. We decided perhaps I should not kind of wander off to the side and sort of sit down after fifteen minutes. We also cut some stuff and added other stuff. You know, stuff. Needles added a sixth talking point but damned if we could remember it. Sorry, please forgive us.

We also discussed what we might talk about during the keynote here in Boston. We actually, like you know, plan some of this stuff. You know, stuff. We do read all the entries on the blog and discuss them. Because, after all, it's the readers who count most of all.

We have to consider our varied audiences when we open our mouths to speak. In bookstores it's primarily readers, but there are also the bookstore managers. So far the two we've had have done a tremendous job in setting things up and supporting us. At a conference like this weekend we have to shift gears and speak to writers. Tomorrow at 11 we have a phone interview with a reporter and that's another shift in gears. Jenny, being well rested, should have no problem shifting gears. I might be a little tired and rusty but mainly because the squirrel's pain still resonates inside me.

This morning we spent about an hour at the Agency discussing business and that was another shift in gears. (Jenny told me I have to get rid of this shirt-- it's the same shirt she's told me I have to get rid of three time before-hehe) Then, before she crashed, Jenny and I also talked about our writing, both the collaboration and our own books and that's also very different. At the stock signings we talk to the people on the floor and the managers and that's also a different mindset. At one store we had to like mimic the picture on the back because they were looking slightly askance at us. We got the feeling people often walked in off the street there claiming to be authors to sign books for some strange reason. Why, we know not.

So that's a lot of different ways to think about things. Which is why my brain hurts. I think Jenny is down-stairs in the bar quite refreshed, partying away, which is what I hear authors do on book tours (the authors who sleeps in the car and cares not about the poor little squirrels).

I on the other hand will retire and feel the little fella's pain. Be one with it. And dream of electric sheep. No, not like that. Geez you people only have one thing on your mind. Especially you, over there, Cherrybomb.

Bottom line, though, about being a writer, is that the most important way to look at things is being a writer. Uh, does that make sense?