Come September, our 5-year-old son will be a kindergartener. Being the youngest of three, he’s seen his sisters’ classrooms and met their teachers over the years. He has an idea of what it will be like to go to the “big kids’ school.”
Next Friday, we’ll be taking him to kindergarten orientation. He’ll see a kindergarten classroom, meet some of the current kindergarteners and teachers, tour the school, and, yes, take a spin in the big, yellow bus. We parents and our future big kids will board a bus in front of the school, take a ride around the block, aaaaand get off the bus in front of the school. My son cannot wait. Whether or not he’ll remain this excited on the first day of school remains to be seen.
Last weekend, I was in Austin with 30+ EMLA agency mates, talking and eating and laughing and missing all of our agency mates who weren’t able to attend. One of the events was a book signing at Book People, a lovely, Texas-sized indy bookstore in Austin. The Book People people (how fun is *that* to say??) had a table full of books by EMLA authors who were in attendance. Take a gander at all the biblio-goodness:
I’ve attended countless book signings in the past–for friends, acquaintances, and total strangers. But this was the first one I’ve attended since receiving The Call. I stood off to the side with J. Anderson Coats, fellow member of the What Do You Do? Anonymous Club, and we took it all in.
And as I watched authors connecting with readers, hope morphed into realization. At past book signings, I’d hoped I’d get the chance to sign my own book one day. Last weekend, I realized I actually will get to sign my own book one day. It’s officially getting easier to admit (in public) that I am an author.
Like my son and his visions of kindergarten, I can imagine what it will be like to see my book on the shelves, or talk with a reader who has connected with my book. But I know I won’t really know until it happens.
So last weekend’s book signing was my New Author Orientation Day. It was a quick trip around the block on the big, yellow bus–a hint of what is to come. I have no idea if I’ll board the bus with finesse, or trip on my way up the steps. I do know that when the bus pulls away from the curb, my family will be snapping photos and blowing kisses and smiling. I just hope I don’t forget my lunchbox.
No matter where you are along the route, I’ll look for you at the next stop. And I’ll save you a seat.