I can't believe my book signing is tomorrow.
1. Book shipment confirmed: check
2. Prepared introduction: check.
3. Rides arranged: check.
4. What to read? Not checked. Will decide later.
5. Ativan: check.
6. Refreshments: not checked. Pending.
7. Plan B if the A/C is still kaput: check.
8. What to wear? Check. Nothing spectacular--this is summer. In Cleveland!
Why are these always so stressful? Why can't they be as much fun for the author as they are for the guests? Why am I so freeeekin' neurotic? Heck, I get all in a tizzy when I invite relatives over for a cook-out. I've been known to spazz out if I have to make an appointment over the phone. I'm that kid who, when called on in class, would dive-bomb under the desk and not come up till the bell rang.
Some authors thrive on this stuff. You know who you are and I am looking RIGHT AT YOU. I admire you so much. Why can't it rub off on me?
What the HECK is your SECRET?