Author Signing at the GLBA 2004


Ha ha! It looks like I am posting before Jay Gesin. We did not end up doing any head to head blogging in the lobby this morning. I slept in, and oh how I needed it. There is a small chance I might actually return to SF semi refreshed. Or maybe I should skip San Francisco altogether and head straight for Helena, Montana.

Intriguing men seems to be a recurring theme this month and I just met a quiet ex petroleum engineer at the GLBA author signing arena. He was signing next to me, and until just now when I read his bio, I thought he was a hunky farm boy. Yes, this post is related to books. Rob Laughner is the author of the novel, Our Nun, published by Melville House Publishing.
ournun.gif

“slyly funny and utterly engaging” —Missoula Independent

More fine print…A press clipping from the Independent Record reports that Rob is married.

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And I thought the inscription I left him in Whose Panties are These? was at least going to get me an invite to lunch. What kind of guy wouldn’t be fascinated by a woman who said, “I’d surely sell more humor books if I had your last name. Dern!”?

I swear boys, you really ought to start wearing your wedding rings.

Ah well, another side bar for How Not to Catch a Man. Or it will be when I go down to Social Security and ask if I can change my last name to Laughner without marrying in. Jennifer Laughner. Jennifer Lyn Laughner. I’d start giggling every time I got the mail. Imagine it, meeting new people for the first time…

Jen: “Hi, I’m Jennifer Laughner”
Stranger: “Hi, nice to meet you”
awkward silence
Jen: “Great apps…crunch…mmmm”
Stranger: “So, what do you do?”
Jen: “Women’s travel humor books”
Stranger: “Wow, do you come from a long line of comedians? I mean, well, you know, like how it is with Blacksmiths?”
Jen: “No, I edited the books before I bought the name. But I have high hopes for my son.”
Stranger: “Oh, is he funny?”
Jen: “I don’t know. I haven’t had him yet.”
Stranger: “Oh, are you pregnant?”
Jen: “No, but I’m scared I might be by next summer.”
Stranger: “Why”
Jen: “Well, a psychic at the Palms in Las Vegas told me I would be.”
Stranger: “Wow, and she even knew that it was going to be a boy!”
Jen: “No, but I’m hoping. I do better with men than women.”
Stranger: “I see. I’m going to get a drink.”
Jen: “Me too. And this one time, at band camp….”

That was the most interesting part of the author signing. The rest went like you’d expect. Me signing my name and worrying that I put too big of a loop on my “J” and that someone would take it to a handwriting analysis and have a big “Aha, so you like being surrounded by lots of people, do ya?”. And I’d be there with the defending thought, “But sometimes my “J’s don’t look like that.” And then after that, I’d think, “So, what does it say about the really long horizontal line that I’ve come to like leaving after the “o”?”

For those jotting down statistical notes about my signings, I got just as many booksellers commenting that Sand sold well in their store as I did those who commented on my bizarre left-handed writing style. Three.


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