Tonight I’m going to a bookstore to see Ilona Andrews. They (husband/wife team) are my favorite author(s). For years I’ve scoured the names of the authors at writing conferences or book festivals that I’ve attended searching for their name. No luck.

Until now.

I stumbled upon their upcoming appearance when I had to take my very sick, very sad dog to a special vet for an MRI. (When something good happens because of something bad, it’s like Life giving you a hug.)

I’ve never gone to a bookstore with the sole purpose of seeing an author. As type this, I’m wondering how that can possibly be? And then I think, as I type some more, well, you’re an introvert and you don’t go many places in general with the sole purpose of seeing anyone. And then I have the answer to that question.

I’m nervous.

Here are the nervous things:

What do I say?
Specifically, what do I say so that the moment is perfect forever and ever amen?
Will there be a line?
Will I be able to find a parking spot?
Will I be late? (Getting out of Atlanta on a Friday night? Oh. No. Getting out of Atlanta on the Friday night of Labor Day weekend? Disaster Potential.) (I hate being late.)
Will my hair look acceptable in the picture that I think they’ll agree to take with me? (Their website said they’ll take pictures with people.)
Why oh why did I not lose those 10 (ahem…15) pounds before today?
Will I have the energy to go if I don’t take a nap?
If I try to take a nap, will I be able to sleep?
Why don’t I just have a cup of coffee instead?

Fortunately, I have all day to ponder these questions and more. And when this day is over, nothing will ever be the same.

Ok, that’s unlikely to be true.

When this day is over, I’ll go back to my introvert cave with a really awesome book signed by a really awesome person-people. (Do they both sign it? Does one sign the first name and the other the last name?) And someday, I’ll come back out again for something else really awesome!

ANISE RAE