Just sitting by the phone, waiting on a call. No, I'm not about to do some Vicki Carr and sprint like a gazelle being chased by a lion, shrieking, 'Let it please be him. Dear God, it must be hiiiiim...' (someone give her a self-help book, PLEASE). However, I am kind of on tenterhooks. I've left a message for the manager of the local art gallery to give me a bell about the possibility of holding my upcoming book launch there, for 'Silver Studs and Sabre Teeth'. If I hold it at my library, I have to finish it by 8.00pm on a Thursday, and whilst this will not necessarily cause the implosion of our planet, I would ideally like to finish just a bit later, say 9.00pm, and maybe hold it on a Friday. A Thursday does not faze me too much, however. So, I am waiting for him to ring. I actually held the launch for 'Abernethy' there, and on the day of the launch my husband managed to freak out the manager by trying to arrange the seats too close to the exhibits on the wall. I sided with the manager because the gallery was having an exhibition of that particular year's Archibald Prize entries. So, here's hoping, and here's hoping even more that the event can be done free of charge. It was last time, but only because someone put in a good word for me. I'm hoping the manager remembers me. I'm sure he will; we've both partaken in a slide show night about our own inspiration as artists/writers, and we've both attended the mental health first aid course together. I attended as a carer for my employer, and he was sent by his employer. We discussed well known figures with mental health problems, and I referred back to the Archibald entry that particular year of Garry McDonald, which focussed on his public persona juxtaposed against his private turmoil. Anyway, mate, can I have the gallery for free? I promise to make those yummy pork-and-prawn spring rolls with sweet chilli/lime dipping sauce again.
I'm a bit tired because I've had a full on few days, peppered with delights such as detaching a catheter hose and copping a few flecks of urine to the face (I did a sprint, like the aforementioned gazelle to the bathroom and practically drowned myself rinsing my face under the tap). Several of my team are away, and I've had a few extra hours to work. The thought of the launch is stressing me a bit, too. I'm just scared, that's all. Now, those of you reading you might be curious about this book, check out this link at http://www.zeus-publications.com/silver_studs_and_sabre_teeth.htm. You can read the first chapter, and hopefully, buy the book. It's available as an e-book, too. It's also got a listing on Amazon.com, so if someone can write a (positive!) review for it, that would be mega-marvy.
My kids have been good little publicists, telling their school teachers. I have dropped in a copy to the local rural ABC station, for the news director to read prior to an interview with the illustrious author - ahem - me. I've drafted an invitation to send off to my friends and the local literati, and it starts 'If you've ever wondered about the connection between an accidental nudie run, censorship and censoriousness, same sex marriage, and Seventies Glam Rock tribute artists, then you will find the answer in Simone Bailey's latest book.' Howzat sound?
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