Nope. That's not how I roll. Like Heath's Joker (one of the few characters who truly frightens me), I just do things. I'm like a dog chasing cars. I don't know what to do with them once I've caught them.
Consider this blog a new car I'm chasing. While the others posting here, my fellow Rock Canyon hommees, will certainly give this the feel of a finely tuned and expertly driven machine, I suspect my contribution will be the sense that some kind of humongous crash is perpetually around the next bend. Today's post is a good example. I have to do it now because it has to be immediate. Immediate in the sense that I wrote it yesterday and am managing to post it for a second (count them, twice) time today. (These posts are from my own blog at ClintJohnsonWrites.com.)
Don't worry. The moment things start making sense here you'll certainly realize it before I do.
I wrote this all yesterday but had internet problems at work, so I'm posting it today. Forgive my tardiness.
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I do not Tweet, so the most up-to-date information on me is going to be found right here, on my blog. Practically Jurassic, I know, but that's the way it is.
I am at this moment sitting in the Student Writing Center at Salt Lake Community College where I work, reminiscing about how awesome it was to meet Jordan, a fifth grader from a school I visited sometime last year. She's been e-mailing me for a while, asking if I would sign her book, and we came to the arrangement that I'd take a little time to talk to her here at work. She just came in.
Now, I've signed books before. But I confess surprise when Jordan showed me the book she wanted signed, and I opened the cover to see I'd already signed it. No one has ever asked me to sign a book twice before. So what could I do? I signed it again, after writing her a message making clear that she was quite possibly the most awesome person alive in the world today. Then we chatted for a while. She asked me a few questions like what is my favorite book (I mentioned six or seven that came most instantly to mind, and offered silent apologies for the hoard that weren't so rapidly retrieved but are equally deserving). We talked about the three books she's writing, and I confessed that I could only manage one at a time. Then she asked what I was going to write next, and I showed her the pages I wrote this morning. I also told her she was the only person to have ever seen those pages other myself. She lit up.
Those of you who are not children's authors may not be aware of this, but children can produce light when they're truly happy. They glow bright enough make your way by.
I have given hundreds of autographs, which isn't saying much for a published author. I certainly haven't penned tens or hundreds of thousands like some writers. Maybe that's why giving one can still mean something. Mean a lot. While I hope that greater success lies ahead in my publishing journey than I've yet achieved, I really hope I never lose the ability to be humbled and renewed by the privilege of spending a little time with someone as special as Jordan.
