Self-indulgent ramblings

Yea, I know, not much of a change there, but tough. Last year at about this time I got a huge wodge of tickets from the nice people at Ottakar's for my first ever book launch, and I looked at this pile of tickets and thought: "What the living hell am I going to do with all these? I don't know this many people! Even the people I know probably don't know enough people..." But we made a valiant effort and lots of lovely people turned up to the event and forced me to sign heaps of books while a couple of good friends kept me lubricated with glasses of purloined red wine.

This year it's been slightly different. This year tickets are like hens' teeth for some reason. Ottakar's printed off a heap more than last time and they've been evaporating. They've had posters up in the shop window and WHOOOOOOSH! the tickets have vanished. And the ones I've got have been doing the same. I've got 18 tickets left and about 43 people want them. Which is gratifying in an ego-massaging sense, but a bit worrying at the same time. Not wanting to disappoint people who're daft enough to want to come to the launch.

Of course, maybe they're just after some free wine and canap├ęs? Maybe this year we won't sell eighty books. Maybe we'll sell three and the rest of the time will be spent with the crowd getting so plastered they run round the university in their pants (UK pants -- not American trousers) singing rude songs?

AND, just because the tickets have been in demand, doesn't mean people are actually going to turn up. It could still be me and She Who Must, standing in a big empty hall on our own, feeling self-conscious. At least until we drink enough wine to do the running around in our pants thing.

Better make sure I've got presentable underwear on, just in case.