Zombies make for one strange book signing

I had the dream again last night. The one where I’m standing in front of a roomful of people, 30 or so, all of them gazing at me with the silvery, shimmering eyes of corn worshippers in a Stephen King novel. They’re expecting me to say something; something funny.

I open my mouth to speak, but my throat is stuffed with cotton; I can barely breathe, much less articulate.

“Mpfhhhh,” I say. “Mumpfhh itthit wuhmpah.”

Thirty sets of silvery eyes continue to stare. No one smiles. No one laughs. One man in a grey business suit glances impatiently at his watch. In the crazy clarity that dreams sometimes bring, I see it’s a Rolex, with a blue face and ostentatious diamond marking the 12 o’clock hour.

Great pools of sweat accumulate beneath my armpits. I realize I’m sporting a tan sports coat and slacks, a great improvement over the buck naked I usually wear to this dream. Both items of clothing are soaked through, the jacket from perspiration, the pants…well, I don’t want to think about why the pants are wet.

I am scared.

I take a sip of water from the plastic cup that magically materializes on the podium, which also has just appeared before me. The cotton inches down my throat like a sandpaper-coated slug, until finally I can speak.

“Um, I’m sorry,” I gasp. “This may have been a mistake.”

As one, the silvery-eyed group stands and, zombie-like, arms outstretched, shambles toward me.

I wake up screaming. Or dreaming of screaming.

And that’s why it has taken me so long to get my book finished. Because once you write a book (which is fun) and get the book published (which is cool) and see your first copy (which, I’m sure, will be exciting)…after all that, you have to promote your book.

You have to talk to real, live people. You have to make them believe you have something on which they should spend their $7.95. You have to do readings, and signings, and tap dance recitals for all I know.

I’ve been told by people who should know, people who’ve been there done that.

I don’t wanna. I want people to just buy my book without any encouragement from me. It’s a pretty good book; not James Thurber, but better than some stuff I’ve read, and there are very few typos. That should count for something.

Oh, OK, OK. I’ll talk to the book clubs. I’ll address elementary school classrooms and tell ‘em to not do drugs. I’ll shamelessly hawk my book at any store willing to give me 60 minutes and a card table. I’ll get out of bed at 5 a.m. to chat with the host of a local access AM radio program.

I will do whatever it takes.

But I swear, if I see just one pair of silvery eyes, the whole deal’s off!

More Reality Check online at http://mtrealitycheck.blogspot.com or www.mlive.com. Email Mike Taylor at mtaylor325@gmail.com.