When George starts a conversation with, “You know I love you, right?” I’m immediately cued to the fact that he’s going to say something about my eyebrows, and instinctively put my hands up to cover them.
I’m kidding. He doesn’t talk about my eyebrows unless he’s really joking, or really trying to be hurtful. Sometimes, it’s a razor-thin line. People who have had partners for 23 years will completely understand this statement. Those who haven’t: “Run Forrest, run!”
It’s OK to laugh instead of cry. Really.
I’ve never been great at self-marketing. I prefer to kind of linger in the shadows and write stuff about things that happen – either to us or to other people. I like telling stories. So, I’m still kind of amazed when someone recognizes me – especially outside of the trucking realm.
When our neighbor approached me at the end of our driveway and said, “I heard you wrote a book!” I was shocked. And I probably didn’t respond appropriately because I was shocked. I may or may not have adopted a defensive pose when I came back with, “Who told you that?” But I didn’t mean it. I was just shocked. (I think I’ve mentioned this.)
Anyway, I had a nice chat with her and gave her some books, did the neighbor-thing, encouraged her to look up links, all the good self-promote-y things I read about in all the self-promote-y blogs and articles I’ve read.
I was actually kind of surprised to get the “You know I love you, right?” and even more surprised that Lurky McLurk overheard my conversation with the neighbor.
“What the … ? I know you’re scary as hell to step out of the shadows and say, ‘You know I love you, right?’ Pretty creepy, guy.”
“Um, I was standing here the whole time you talked to her. She actually asked me about the truck before you walked up, so yeah, I’m not creepy. But you do know I love you, right?”
“I feel like the urgency of your request might make it a trap. And I didn’t just walk up, I was going to get the mail. What’s the matter with you?”
“Baby, you’ve got to quit telling people they will probably hate your books when you give them copies. That’s terrible marketing.”
“I didn’t tell her she would hate it, I told her I wouldn’t be offended if she hated it.”
“No, you said, ‘You’ll probably hate it, but I won’t be offended unless I see it on top of your trash pile!”
“I was trying to be nice, but I can see the weird factor in that statement when you say it to me. Maybe it’s just you.“
“Babe, seriously, your books are good, don’t sell yourself short.”
“Yeah. Promise. Only on Saturdays. In the driveway.”