I’ve finally finally finally finished reading all of the American Fiction entries in my house! (Note to entrants: we do read every single entry, beginning to end.) I’ll soon have more (whenever they get here – co-editors/assistant editors and screeners are also reading stories, and the final picks find their way to me via the selection funnel), but until then, I can at long last focus on writing.
I’ll have to put away my Pinky ball, though. I didn’t even know they still made them until I saw Shelly, an employee at Clarksville’s Books-a-Million, bouncing one through the store. Thwap. Thwap. I wanted to buy one then, but I was chained, at the time, to my book-signing table. (Okay. I could have left the table, and I decided, actually, that the next time I do a signing like that I will leave the table so people don’t walk in the door and think Ohmygod there’s someone who’s going to bother us into buying a book walk walk walk!)
Chained or not chained, I forgot to buy a ball before leaving for the day. However! The next week, Ian and I went to the movie theater to watch Star Trek but couldn’t find two seats together, so we exchanged our tickets for Terminator and went for a walk outside while waiting for it to start. We went into the outdoor retail center’s Books-a-Million, and I got my Pinky ball.
The point: I now have this Pinky ball, and as someone highly susceptible to distraction, I ordinarily should probably not have it anywhere near my keyboard. I say “ordinarily” because I just found, after tossing it at my wall and catching it after the bounce-back, that drywall makes for a poor ball-bouncing wall. Sure, the ball bounces, but so does everything else on the wall. Pictures rattle uneven and the wall vibrates. What use, this Pinky ball, after all!?
Speaking of book signings, though, this Saturday marks the Davis-Kidd book signing! 2pm. If you’re in the Nashville area, I hope you’ll stop by. I’ll have both versions – the cover is the only difference. It’ll be interesting to see whether people are drawn to the new cover. (They’re certainly not drawn to the old one. I planted accidentally left a copy in a local Starbucks, and it was still there three days later. Soon, I’ll drop donate one of the new ones there and see how long it sticks around.)
And now, I must away. Something tells me it’s time to feed the cats.