Sarah E. Moffett

EMU & Tryst
Harrisonburg, Virginia
Washington, D.C.
Week Three

Saturday morning, I woke up to my alarm. I don’t like waking up. I really don’t like doing it on Saturdays. And absolutely, most definitely, not to an alarm. Alas, the alma mater called, and seeing as they saw fit to give me a college degree, it seemed like a good idea to make an appearance to sign books at graduation upon their request.

See SEM drive 2.5 hours there. See SEM sign 8 books. See SEM drive 2.5 hours back.

I love my alma mater.

Fortunately a good friend was in tow who can make watching paint dry amusing, not to mention there were some random reconnections with lost college classmates. Seeing as I didn’t exactly pull a This Side of Paradise to bond with my college contemporaries, this was particularly novel. Additionally, there was also at least one professor, who I know is simply shocked I survived to 27, let alone got a book published. She seemed to buy the theory that I found a publisher as crazy as I was though. Just feeds into the whole theory, crazy people: takes one to know one.

The next day was a book event at Tryst, a coffeehouse in Adam’s Morgan, D.C. Yeah. It turned into a girl’s social club, with a featured appearance from a local musician and some nutella covered waffles. It’s the little things that make life bearable.

Somewhere in the midst of these “events,” an e-mail popped up on my black berry. A CBS affiliate wanted to do an interview. You win some and you lose some. Where are the Chili Peppers to sing about life (who needs love?) being a roller coaster when you really need them?

Disclaimer: If there is an unusual note of sarcasm, cynicism, jadedness, or unpalatable commentary in this post, it’s because I love book promotion, self promotion, and all things promotionally related. It’s wonderful. Particularly for an introvert.

Now excuse me while I go hide from people for the next month.

[Listening to Placebo.]

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