When you have a small, small-town book signing.

Lovewell's Corner Store, Lupton MI

July 3, 2021

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Selling three books at the Rose City Post Office and selling another one at Rose Valley Winery when I stopped in to chat with the owners (and trading a fifth book for the two children’s books published by the winery’s new employee) worried me. Would 12 copies of Facing Sunset be enough?

Today was my first “official” book signing at Lovewell’s Corner Store, a busy party store four miles from the patch. I boxed up eight additional copies promised for others, knowing I could order more in time before they visited the patch later this summer. And tossed in seven copies of What She Wrote, the anthology Lilith House Press published last November. They could be “on sale.”

Lovewell’s is owned and operated by Margie and Jean, a mother-daughter dynamic duo who support the community in many ways. Offering me a book signing opportunity is a simple example. While a party store seemed an incongruous venue, why not? It might give locals a chance to pick up a copy.

The store is a giant maze. Narrow aisles packed high overhead with snacks, drinks, gifts, and essentials for things forgotten by campers draw customers in to explore. Now that Covid restrictions are off, customers streamed like the Rifle River after all that rain this week.

Where Margie wanted me to set up blocked a short, dead-end aisle, so I ditched my card table and cleared a spot on the shelf at the entrance where she keeps “free” donated clothing. The books fit and I could greet everyone rushing in and out. People coming in thought I was in line. “No, come on in. I’m doing a book signing.” They walked on by. People exiting needed help with the door, arms filled with cases of beer or boxes holding several jugs of alcohol.

The only locals I recognized were store employees, hustling in and out to resupply the shelves. Oh, and my old boss from the Ogemaw County Voice.

“Margie texted me you were having a book signing,” he said. Camera in hand, I’m sure he expected a line of readers eager to buy my book. Instead, the line to the store’s cash registers stretched 20 deep.

“She’s trying to help,” I said. “You might get better photos at a signing we’re doing at the winery later this summer.” My visit to Rose Valley Winery entailed some discussion about doing a joint signing with their children’s book author employee.

“Great, just let me know. If you want to write up a press release, I’ll publish it,” he said, leaving to catch more local activities. “We caught the parade in Skidway earlier. It was really good.”

That he only publishes positive news was what I loved about writing for the Voice. It might surprise you how much goes on in a small community like Ogemaw County.

My first book signing!

But today was not happening for a book signing.

Sixty lakes within twenty miles, all in an easy three-hour drive from the city, make for a thriving cottage industry. It’s the 4th of July weekend—every “flatlander, trunk-slammer, downstater” needed beer, booze, or munchies to get the holiday rolling. No time to chat books. They needed to get back on the lake or their four-wheelers.

One gentleman engaged with me, but all he wanted to know was: “who’s your publisher?” (And if the anthology had religious stories.) He had a story to tell about being a pro athlete, losing himself to drugs, and being saved by Jesus. “Good luck,” we wished each other.

Feeling like nothing but a door-opener, I set my timer for a minute and counted. Fifteen people entered, about half that many exited. One guy popped open a tall boy as he walked by. Another gripped a twisted, brown-bagged bottle; I hoped he waited until he got home. One woman ran out clutching a half-pint, not in a bag. A gaggle of young and middle-aged women wearing MAGA hats and Trump t-shirts flip-flopped in. No potential readers there!

After an hour, I hauled everything (all books accounted for) back to the truck. A customer complained to an employee rolling cases of beer on a dolly. "That line in there is longer than Walmart!"

The employee said, "But it moves."

I had better luck at the Post Office. Thanks, Margie, maybe my book isn't light enough for vacation-at-the-cottage reading.