Plane rides, as you know if you’re a long-term follower of this blog, don’t go over well with me. I’ve learned, however, to take my meds ½ hour before boarding and that seems to do the trick.
Recently, I was on four different planes in a 24-hour period. (I survived! 😊)
As I settled into my seat on a full plane, I pulled out my book ‘Papa, Where Are You?’. I was giving a book talk the following week and always desire to refresh myself with the points I may choose to share.
Of course, I always hope that a seatmate may show an interest in what I’m reading so I could do a bit of marketing on the spot.
I was sitting on the aisle and the gal in the middle seat seemed to be glancing my way at my book. I was hopeful but not sure how to approach this.
“I have that book!” she says. What???
“I wrote this book.” I responded. What???
I turned it over and showed her my picture.
She told me she hadn’t read it yet but her mother had just given it to her and said she’d really enjoy it.
We were both incredulous.
She went further by saying that her parents had recently moved to St. Louis from Chicago because the closest family was here. They didn’t really know anyone other than family. Then in their retirement community, some nice lady sold them my book. Hmmm. Sounded a bit familiar.
I asked if by any chance they are in a retirement community near me, naming it. Yes, that’s the one. It’s also the one my mother lives in – that nice lady! 😊
My new friend shared a bit more about her folks and something else rang a bell.
“Is your father retired military?” I asked.
“Why yes he is.” She exclaimed.
I laughed as I explained that my husband is retired military also and my mother has been wanting us to have dinner with her some night along with your folks.
My new friend asked how sales were going. I explained that as a self-published author, it’s all on me so, I remind myself often, “slow and steady, one book sale at a time.”
I’m looking forward to seeing her again!
Last week, my mother was about to get on the elevator at her place. A young lady was getting on behind her carrying a bunch of flowers. As my mother does with everyone she meets, she struck up a conversation.
“Thank you. They’re for my mother.”
“Who’s your mother?”
You can guess the rest. My mother just met my seatmate.