At least once a week, someone on Facebook will ask me when I'm going to come to their town for a book signing.
When the Booktown Mysteries started to do well, my agent asked me about doing a book tour. Knowing what that entails (FLYING -- and usually on little regional carriers, you know--puddle jumpers), I told her up front that I am a CHICKEN. I do not fly. I always was a nervous flyer and during 911 I was across the pond in Scotland. The next ten days were nerve wracking. I don't even know how they got me on that plane because I was not sedated.
I have never flown since.
But, book tours mean flying. No can do. Not negotiable.
She said if my publisher really wanted me to tour, they'd hire me a bus. (I'm so gullible, I didn't realize she was kidding.)
I mentioned it to my editor. He laughed.
Well, I don't drive anywhere that takes more than an hour to get there. Why? I fall asleep at the wheel. My designated driver (Mr. L) is not enthusiastic about leaving the cats for an extended period of time.
And still people ask me over and over again: "When are you going to come my city?"
Here's the answer. Convince my editor that I need a tour bus. Like Willie Nelson has. (Sans pot. And I guess I don't need one quite that big. How about a Winnebago?)
Go on, I dare you!
