On Thursday, after another maddening experience with our local credit union (of which I was a member for two and a half weeks), I closed my account (they didn't care, nor did they find Marty's paycheck, which they acknowledge was deposited into their system but never made it into our checking account) and found myself at the local Edward Jones office. When I arrived, Tammy, the office manager greeted me, told me the person I needed to speak with wasn't available and by the way, did I want to attend this year's Gathering of Authors? After another hour of chatting in the lobby of the Edward Jones office, Tammy discovered I've dabbled in writing ("The Calling" coming to an Amazon Web site near you in Spring 2024).
What was odd about this experience (other than I didn't maim anyone at the credit union) was that Tammy happened to be the second person in two hours to mention this event.
Today, Marty and I took the 11 mile trek to the Cowboy Church, 24 miles from Louisiana, in nowhere Arkansas to check out the event. And wouldn't you know? It was heavily attended by not only local authors, but writers from all over the area. Think of it like a trade show for readers. Most folks were great, peddling their wares, sharing their stories of inspiration on how they came up with ideas for their books. Then there was the world's leading expert in Bigfoot, who showed us blurry pictures that he swore was the monster itself.
I met a lot of folks and managed to get myself invited to a Christmas party in Longview. Several published authors invited me to reach out any time for advice on anything from marketing to publishing to proofreading. Plus, I found a book series for my nephew, Patrick, for his Christmas present. And I found a book about baseball and World War II for me.
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