Home again, home again . . .

I'm back from my week-long Alabama Library Tour and my weekend-long appearance at SIBA, the Southeastern Independent Booksellers Association trade show in Atlanta. Both proved to be very successful trips. I met a ton of librarians on the tour and handed out a LOT of school visit brochures, which I hope turn into invitations!

At SIBA I participated in a panel that included Deborah Wiles. Even though Deb and I both lived in Atlanta for the two years I was there, and both haunted the same bookstores, this was the first time we had met. She was great, and her new book, The Aurora County All-Stars, looks great. (I'm forty pages in and it's terrific so far!) This year you were only guaranteed one of the free, signed books by the panelists if you attended a panel. That meant a lot of people looking for a free, signed copy of Deb's book got mine too. Thanks for letting me share in your glow, Deb!

While I signed copies of Something Rotten for booksellers, I also handed out little packets of bookplates. Wendi and I had the idea that we should offer something else with the books, and we realized that bookplates would be a great giveaway. The idea is for booksellers to take these back to their stores and put them in copies of Samurai Shortstop and Something Rotten, thus instantaneously creating signed copies. As my writer friends say, "A signed book is a sold book!" That's the hope, anyway.

Here's how we created the bookplates. First, we printed out bookplates eight to a page on sticker paper, and I signed and stamped them.


Then they got cut out.

Five of each kind got put together in a plastic baggy, along with a postcard thanking the booksellers for their support and telling them to e-mail me if they want more bookplates. (Click on the pic to see them larger.)


They were a hit! I gave out every packet I created. Some folks from the HarperCollins publicity department who were there with an author one table down were salivating over them. They said I was clever. Time will tell if they're right . . . but I'm always trying.