Rolls of barbed wire - check. Aerial reconnaisance craft - check. Full SAS troop at the ready on nearby buildings - check.
That's right, I'm doing a book signing. And no-one's getting out of that shop without a copy of Please Don't Stop the Music, even the ones who only wandered in to see if their copy of 'Accountancy without Tears (Except for the Client's, Obviously)' was in stock. I've got the doors set to Emergency Lock, the Science Fiction section will be swarming with My Men, there will be Stormtroopers in the Children's department and I've got a plant in the Gardening section. I think I'm good to go.
Of course, if I wear full camouflage gear no-one will be able to see me, so I'm going for the full Author look (which any writer will confirm consists of corset, kilt and clogs, it's almost a uniform in fact). If this doesn't make me noticeable enough (and it might not, I can blend in you know. I didn't spend years in MI5...no, actually, come to think of it, I didn't spend years in MI5) I shall be wearing underwear almost unparalleled in its oddness. Which may mean that I can't sit down, but that's not a bad thing, right? Who wants their authors sitting down anyway? People want their authors to look dynamic, go-getting sort of people, you wouldn't want to buy a book from someone who looks like they sit around in comfortable underwear all day, would you? NO. You would rather purchase from someone who looks as if they suffer for their art, someone for whom spiked underpants and a gusset made of nylon is merely the tip of the iceberg of discomfort.
So, it's been a busy week, all in all. What with Please Don't Stop the Music being released on Tuesday and then having to spend the rest of the week getting four Army units into position and training up my friends in hand to hand combat; buying really nasty underwear and finding clogs to fit...well, you can imagine.
Anyway. Waterstone's, York. 2pm Saturday 12th of February. Make a note. It won't be pretty, but then, who is, in PVC underwear?
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