Once upon a time, Gentle Reader, I had my first encounter with a Fan Girl.
I do not mean to imply I had never met such a creature before, indeed, I may have been one myself on more than one occasion (of the breathy variety and in the presence of a certain YA author).
No this was my Fan Girl. She was excited to meet me in a manner that made itself known as mild bouncing and several intermittent squeaks that, once lowered into a decibel level appropriate to the human ear, could be translated as euphoric rhapsodies over Soulless.
It was, to put it mildly, highly disconcerting. And I was not prepared.
First, and most importantly, I was not dressed appropriately. I was wearing my regular everyday clothing and not one of my nicer vintage outfits and stilettos.
Please believe me when I tell you, Gentle Reader, that coping with unexpected social encounters is always best met wearing stilettos.
Secondly, as my book is not yet out to the public, I was not yet anticipating fan-girlishness in any form. I was under the impression I had a good four more months to prepare, and even then one cannot depend upon fan girls, one can only hope to engender such zeal.
And yet there I stood, wide-eyed and mute, confronted by gyrating squeals, with an acute sense that I ought to have some other response than “I’m so glad you liked it.”
And there it is, my first encounter and my inability to cope.
Quote of the Day:
“The test of any good fiction is that you should care something for the characters; the good to succeed, the bad to fail. The trouble with most fiction is that you want them all to land in hell, together, as quickly as possible.”
~ Mark Twain