murder.booklocker.com

A friend called today to tell me about some folks she had dinner with the other night. The daughter is a freshman in college, majoring in English. When my friend asked what her plans for the future were, she replied that she wanted to be “a successful author.” Using that comment as an opening, My friend went on to brag about her friend, the author (me).

Somehow in our conversation, we wandered off to whether or not I would find a publisher for the second book (the first was self-published). Along the way she mentioned that if someone else did publish it, then it would show up on amazon.com. I quickly assured her that my first novel would be appearing there any day now. It would just take a while.

“But you self-published it!”

“Doesn’t matter,” I replied. “It’s a real book, you know.” Unconvinced (I think), she plugged my name into amazon. Voila! There was PARK RIDGE in all its glory.

As we talked, she kept trying other booksellers. “Oh, look! Barnes and Noble has the picture.” While she kept searching, I squeezed the phone between cheek and shoulder and typed in amazon.com to see for myself.

I’m pleased, of course. But a little bit concerned that it takes someone else or a website (whether booklocker.com or amazon or barnes and noble) or whatever to give my writing a semblance of respectability. I’m reminded of the old saw about whether a tree falling in the woods makes a sound if there’s no one to hear it.