Book Expo Canada: big pond, little fish. Endangered? Hardly.

Now, I was warned that Book Expo could make me feel small. After all, I’m just one little-known (okay okay, next best to unknown) writer with a small press. But we were also up there with advance review copies of Double-blind; surely, I muttered to Doubt and Depression, two familiar demons who have dropped by for the summer, surely that amounts to something.

Book Expo looked like a cross between a fair and a mall, but it smelled like a corporate boardroom. Stalls were fancy to varying degrees, and in the first feeding frenzy of Saturday morning, people grabbed books off shelves, happily ignoring signs that read “For Display Only.” (I wondered what happened to the concept of “Ask first.”) Lineups for signings snaked round. Big-arsed publishers had thick plush carpet over their share of the hard floor–ever harder, hour after standing hour. I worked in malls years ago. I don’t envy the fatigue and ache that infests you after standing around, walking the sales floor and counting the minutes until your first break … all before opening the doors to let customers in.

So what happened at Book Expo? I didn’t see many orders being placed, but that seems to be done ahead of time now. It’s a bit like getting lost in a bookstore for the first time, when you can’t see over the shelves but know Mom is somewhere close by. I did see lots of hugging, air kisses and lots of lining up. Traffic seemed steady through the centre, sparser on the far edges. One person I chatted to commented on my accent, or perceived relative lack of one and pointed this out as though it were a high compliment. Joy. People still do that?

I had two signings for Double-blind, one Sunday afternoon, one Monday morning. I also had lineups, which I was not expecting, but hey, free books, right?

I’d never had lineups at a signing before. I’m more accustomed to the Sit Next to Your Books and Look Friendly While Everyone Avoids Eye Contact scenario. My second signing for The shadow side of grace was at Coles in the Village Shopping Centre. The Village is a … quiet mall. Coles is at the back end. And it was a gorgeous fall Saturday. I was sure tumbleweeds passed by, or maybe that was lint on my glasses. Then, she came. A little old lady. Fierce of mien. Sharp of eye. She strode past the table. Stopped. Strode back. Picked up my book as though she were Ahab and the sun had just offended her. Turned it over like it was a beetle in the sun. Peered over her glasses at the price. Slammed it back on the table. “It’s too expensive, dear; you’re just starting out.”

Having a line-up at a signing is a bit like driving on the Queensway in Ottawa: you’re baffled on either side and focused only on where you’re going. No lane change here, baby. You want to chat with everyone, find out their name, figure out if they’d like the book personalized or just scribbled on, and thank them. Gratifying and draining all at once.

Did I feel small? Sure. I’m one of thousands of people in this country who can string a sentence together with a bit of skill. Hoop-de-doo, yay for me, got another book coming out.

Yeah. Got another book coming out. Doing what I’ve wanted to do since I was seven.

Small. But not squashed.