The Other Side Of The Table

I’m going to preface this by stating the obvious: it is a privilege to do what I do, to have the readers I have, to get on the road and sign my name for people who love my work and support me in this career. And 99.9% of authors feel the same. Please keep this in mind - we are so GRATEFUL and LUCKY and HONORED to be in the position to attend signing events and meet readers.

Please keep that in mind while you read. I promise it is in our minds every second of every event.

This is not to say that signing events are easy. Or without their flaws. Most authors do not write books because we are bubbly extroverts fueled by social interaction. And while we show up with genuine enthusiasm and love for our readers, there is also an element of performance too. A mask, if you will. A mask we try very, very hard to hold onto, lest it slip and some of our pain, discomfort, anxiety, exhaustion, etc. slips through. And lands on you, the reader, the person we are so grateful to meet and happy to connect with. Trust me, we do our very best to give every single person in line the same energy, within the best of our ability - and within the bounds of the specific event.

This is important. Every event is different, every event we do has different rules, requirements, or expectations. We might be different from event to event, depending on our travel, our wellness, our mental state.

Because I’m fresh from BookCon - and because there has been some very strange and (in my opinion) uninformed takes about author behavior at BookCon - let’s look at this specific example. Here’s a picture to literally set the stage:

My apologies to the reader I cropped, but thank you for the picture! Now this looks pretty straightforward, doesn’t it? Table, props, my little cup of water, hand sanitizer, etc.

What you don’t see is a massive room of tables with authors and readers, all talking, all moving, all with that wonderful combination of excitement and delirium you get at a con. Namely, it’s LOUD, with both readers and our teams in the mix. And I had to really focus to hear readers speaking at certain volumes.

Which brings me to the TABLE. Oh God, what could Victoria possibly have to say about the table? Well, frankly, the table size, particularly the depth, was a HUGE topic of conversation amongst the authors. I understand the intent of creating a better barrier, but it just ended up making our jobs harder. By the end of day 1, my back was on fire from leaning forward to grab books, sign, and hand them back. It was like a rowing class at a certain point, and we had to pivot on Day 2 to make sure I didn’t send myself into muscle spasm (because I get those now! Hello 35!). And I’m an able-bodied individual. I have the privilege of being able to sign for 4 hours with only the “normal” amounts of pain. And that “normal” is going to range for every single author.

I get asked at signings all the time: “How’s your hand?” And I say, “It’s not the hand, it’s the face.” Because it is. We have the immense privilege of knowing how painful it becomes to smile for hours on end, and I walk away from most signings these days with tension headaches that take hours to subside, if not days. I’m still working the tightness out of my brow, if you can believe it. So please, please don’t interpret the lack of a SMILE for rudeness or disdain. Trust me, we’re trying to spare ourselves when we can.

And we’re trying to do our very best for YOU. What does that look like? Well, meaningful interaction, even if it’s only 30 seconds. We want to make sure we sign your books or items properly, personalize them if you like, AND answer any questions you may have for us. And sometimes a reader is nervous, or scared, and we have to make the mental calculation of how to give you the space you need. That’s a lot to juggle (pain and noise aside) - and for most of us, that looks like setting us both up for success. Flapped books, clearly labeled personalization. I can sign my name and talk to you at the same time very easily. I can’t sign your name or write a quote or draw a picture or figure out how many bookplates you would like (let alone see the bookplates, some of the sheets were very difficult to navigate) WHILE speaking to you. That doesn’t mean you can’t ask for these things, but it’s worth giving some grace when we get pushed out of our practiced zone. I’ve been doing this for 10 years and I admit, I was struggling with the unlabeled bookplates. I love the idea of not carrying books, but please please please help us out with the plates.

Again, it is easy for us to sign our names on pre-prepared materials and still give you our attention. The variables is where we start to mess up, and I know how much we hate messing up in your books.

In regards to meaningful interaction - that 30 seconds or less - we are also thinking about not just one person in line, but the next and the next and the next. We’re thinking about our teams, the booksellers, the volunteers. All the people making things run smoothly so we can keep moving and see everyone who is so kindly waiting to see us. With BookCon, that meant very strict signing slots. Our times were very policed. And we are keeping that time in our head as we go, gauging with our teams when we have to speed up. To stop personalizing, stop posing for photos, stop signing more than one item. I even have a faster signature I switch to when things are really bad. All the things we can drop while still maintaining meaningful time WITH YOU, in the time allowed. It’s a lot to juggle - and stay present, focused, and smiling (lest someone cancel us for gasp not smiling).

Beyond BookCon: I reiterate it is a privilege to do signing events. To have readers who want to see you and meet you and connect to you the way they have to your books. It is also an immense privilege to be able to DO events. There is a physical and mental requirement we don’t talk about, and a barrier for many, many authors. It’s a spectrum of course. From you have Resting Bitch Face (like me) and have to be careful, to you are unable to sit without pain beyond this amount of time. Or you can’t sign anymore, and must use a stamp. There’s countless reasons. Let alone neurodivergencies that make this highly social and performative act very difficult, if not impossible.

And of course, the misogyny and racism of demanded performance to unknown standards cannot go unacknowledged. It is not lost on me who gets to show pain, who gets to show cracks, and who gets destroyed for it.

All this to say - authors are human. Authors are not machines. Authors are not zoo animals. We are so happy to do what we do, but happiness is not an anesthetic to pain or difficulty.

Please don’t turn author events into another space where we must calculate risk. There are already many parts of social media where authors don’t feel welcome, or have removed themselves for their safety and mental health. Please don’t take in-person events from us, and create an atmosphere where dropping a smile for a split second can be fatal. It isn’t fair, it isn’t right, and it isn’t a road any of us want to go down.

I love you guys, I love our community, I love my author colleagues and friends, and I can’t wait to see bunches of your at YALLWest in two days. :)

Cheers,

Victoria