Stealth Writer and Red Pumps

So, I'm pretty much a wallflower. Always have been, always will be. I don't like to stand out in a crowd, don't like to be the center of attention. I don't wear makeup, except for very formal occasions, and my typical outfit is jeans, t-shirt and Chucks. If I happen to put on mascara or, god-forbid, a dress, my two boys look at me funny and run the other way.

But when it comes to my writing, I want to be NOTICED. I want to be a New York Times best-selling author. I want everyone to know my name and wait anxiously for my next book to arrive on shelves. I want them to pick it up without reading the back cover and run with it to the checkout so they can get home as soon as possible and read it.

Seems like a conflict, doesn't it? Well, try and live it.

I'm heading to the Romantic Times convention Wednesday. That first day, I'm going to do my first-ever signing at the ebook fair and then I'll be at the Ellora's Cave party. Now, the signing makes me nervous only because it's something I've never done before and I don't exactly know what's going to happen.

The EC party makes me grab for my bottle of lorazepam, the one I use to fly. Because for just a few seconds, everyone in the room might be staring at me. What's worse, I have to walk up three stairs and down three stairs in shoes with four-inch heels. What idiot decided I needed screw-me-red pumps with stilettos? Oh yeah, that was me.

So, am I an idiot? I hope not. I just wanted to get into the spirit of the event and, yes, not stick out among the flash and glitter of all the other guests.

And I really hope I don't trip in those heels, thereby ensuring that everyone will look at me.