I am packing my bags to go on a virtual book tour.

I have been on book tours before, the bricks-and-mortar kind–where you go to a bookstore and stand behind a podium and wait for people to come and sit in the metal folding chairs. You are praying that people will come. An icy drop of sweat trickles down your back.  Your mouth grows dry and parched. You realize that you are willing to give anything if there are at least TWO people unrelated to you in the audience, and if one of them does not, in fact, work for the bookstore.

That is all you ask. It is not so much to ask, is it? Okay, could there just even be ONE person? And could maybe you and that person go over to the coffee part of the store and have a cup of something together, and you will thank her for coming and ask her questions about her life and tell her she’s in the running to be your very best friend. And you will try not to feel like a failure.

It is a dicey proposition, bookstore readings. These days, what with 354 television stations and Netflix, hardly anybody wants to to out at night.

The first bookstore reading I did was for a parenthood book that I had published–You Might As Well Laugh–and it was held immediately after an appearance by some humongous creature dressed in a red fur costume and appealing to children. I believe his name was Clifford the Big Red Dog, and he was like the Beatles for the 2-year-old crowd. No, make that a combination of the Beatles and Jesus. 

The thought by the marketing person was that parents and their children would come to see Clifford the Big Red Dog, and then somehow the parents would want to stay after Clifford’s romp and hear me talk about how fun it was to muddle through parenthood. These were people who were ACTUALLY MUDDLING THROUGH PARENTHOOD RIGHT THEN, and they did not need anyone trying to make jokes about it.

Plus, they were there with their children, and it was 7:30 at night, and kids had been amped up to the extreme just by being in the presence of Clifford the Big Red Dog, who was–I can’t stress this enough–an ICON. I don’t know what the children were supposed to be doing while I was supposedly talking to their parents–the marketing people forgot that part. But let’s just say that many children were forced to leave the premises by being carried out screaming underneath their parents’ arms, begging for just thirty more seconds with Clifford the Big Red Dog…while I sat facing a row of empty metal chairs.

I had thought to bring a friend with me, so at least I didn’t look like The Most Friendless, Misguided Person in the Whole Universe. My friend even said I could read to her from my book, just in case I was still in the mood for that sort of thing.

Which I wasn’t.

But then a miracle happened. A mother who was rushing past, on her way out the door with her 2-year-old son, must have felt sorry for me standing there in front of the empty chairs, with only one friend to my name. So she very kindly came over with her toddler and plopped down to listen to my little spiel. She was very polite and sat facing forward with an attentive, encouraging look on her face. I will always be grateful to this woman. She is probably going to be canonized some day.

Unfortunately, not two minutes into my reading, her child (intoxicated, no doubt, with his earlier brush with fame) stood up on one of those metal chairs, slipped, and it folded up with him inside, and he crashed to the floor and cut his lip. He then left underneath her arm, the way all the other children had.

My reading in bookstore days was launched.

But that was in 1997. A whole new century has dawned, and now the internet is here for us to roll around in.

And with my paperback of A Piece of Normal just released, I’m going on a blog tour. I get to write guest posts on people’s blogs and also answer their questions, comment to their readers–all organized by this genius of a woman, Dorothy Thompson, who has figured out blogs that are willing to host writers and just how to do make a tour happen.

Best of all, I’ve had such fun lately writing blog posts and thinking about my book again. And just getting to talk with Dorothy and with the other bloggers she’s introduced me to has been so lovely. I’ll definitely write about where I’m going, so if you want, you can visit those other blogs with me. And if you’re a writer yourself, you may just want to contact Dorothy yourself by clicking on the link above, and see if she can arrange a tour for you as well.

The best part is: you don’t have to pack a suitcase, and Clifford the Big Red Dog will be nowhere in sight.