I had my first “official” author presentation for Lemonade and Holy Stuff. And I did………okay. I goofed up a couple of times which only solidified my initial feelings about the day: I hadn’t earned my spot at the table, so to speak.
I know that everyone faces self-doubt, but lately I’ve been bathing in it. I’ve been feeling that old word “just” sneaking in where it isn’t welcome. I’m just a mom who writes humorous and poignant stories about her kids. I’m just a non-fiction writer with no finger on the pulse of fiction, the real meat that readers are after. I’m just a self-published author. Chimps could pull that off. I hate “just.” It implies “less than.” However, that is exactly how I feel: so very less than.
Truly, I wish there was a vitamin Confidence that I could take. That would solve all my problems.
I am aware that I view myself through a pretty harsh lens. Unfortunately, that’s how I’m wired. I’m so Type A that it isn’t funny. The problem with being Type A is that I am also human. I screw up. A lot. None of that changes that expectation in my head that I be perfect, even if it’s my first time doing it.
My writers’ group, bless their scribbling hearts, are so very supportive. If not for their weekly pats on the back, I wouldn’t be as productive a writer. They truly lift me up when I need it. They were there to support me on Saturday, even saving my butt when I forgot to bring my book to the podium with me. Yes. You read that right. I forgot my damn book. What author does that?
My family and friends were there to support me, which was awesome. Seeing their faces scattered in the audience gave me something to look at while my voice shook and my computer went backwards during my PowerPoint presentation. I still don’t know how that happened. I wasn’t pressing the wrong button. Technology hates me. Those who were there Saturday got to witness it first hand.
In any regard, I’m positive I came off as scatter-brained, or, at the very least, as unorganized. Sadly, there isn’t much I can do to rectify that situation. I can take this as a learning experience. In the future, I plan to:
1. Take more anxiety medication, because what I did take didn’t work.
2. NOT FORGET MY BOOK.
3. And it warrants repeating: Not forget my book.
4. Make Jim run the technology. It quivers in fear in his presence.
5. Teach my kids to do a little, entertaining jig in front of strangers to distract from their mother’s ineptitude.
At the very least, the kids will get their exercise in for the day.