There is a rhythm to my chaotic life these days. Mostly I toil away behind my computer--writing my books. Or behind the circulation desk--loaning library books. Or behind the microphone--hawking casino sweepstakes.
Rarely is any of this glamorous. Though once in a blue moon I do experience a celebrity type moment. Always unexpected. Always a thrill. Cut to three days ago at the library.
Me dressed down in corduroy cargo pants, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and clunky Doc Martins. Hair in a ponytail and wearing my red-rimmed glasses (glasses similar to the ones I recently saw on 'Ugly Betty'. Huh.) I zap the barcode of two bestselling suspense authors' books and hand them to a male patron. "Anything else I can do for you?"
Patron: Holds up a promo bookmark. "I'm looking for books by this author."
Me: Blink-blink. Blush. "Um. That's me."
Me: Gesturing toward the name on the bookmark, feeling awkward and giddy at the same time. "That's me. I'm Beth Ciotta. My books are on the shelves. Would you like me to show you where they are?"
Patron: Nods and follows me. Pregnant pause then... "If you're an author, why are you working in a library?"
Me: Smiling. "Because I'm not Stephen King."
Patron: Laughs and chooses, not one, but two of my books. "When you're rich and famous, I'll have to come back for your autograph."
I'm kind of hoping that he or his wife will like the stories so much they'll want my autograph regardless of my non-celebrity status. Not that I care a flip about the autograph thing. He'd already given me a monumental thrill. Usually patrons ask to be directed to the latest book by Nora Roberts, James Patterson, or Mary Higgins Clark. This patron asked for me.
Now excuse me while I go back to doing the laundry. *g*