I went to an event tonight at Annie’s Books in Lowell. It was dubbed a local author’s reception. I’m not sure what it was supposed to be, except that it wasn’t necessarily about selling books or doing readings or anything like that. It seemed to just be a celebration of local talent, which was fine. It was a nice gathering, and I had some interesting conversations with a couple of people, but it was a totally weird night. I felt a little out of place.
I think the reason is that I’m not all that connected to my book anymore. I mean, I love the stories, I love that I put it out, but my focus is on being a better writer now. It’s not on finding an agent and getting published. It’s about making better art. The rest of the people there, while I am sure they are concerned with getting better, seemed more preoccupied with the idea of being an author.
Which is not to say that any of them were bad people. On the contrary, everyone I met seemed cool and nice. I just found it hard to find a kindred spirit. I spent a lot of time looking at books and not a lot of time being social.
I did finally get into an interesting conversation with a guy who’s been writing something about the Silver Age of Marvel Comics. That was a fun conversation and I felt like I had something to offer. It was great.
Other that that, today was a wash. The Sox won, which was great, but Stephanie and I fought a bit. The stress of everything that’s been going down lately has been too much for us. I hope it gets better this week. I really do.