Monday, March 07, 2011

Authors vs. Book Bloggers in a Fight to the Death!

Originally published at Absentminded Author, v1.


Last Saturday, I arrived at the local Golden Corral an hour late, but not too late to witness a horrific event. The tension was thick―a chokingly thick miasma that was almost physically difficult to wade through.

With near standing room only, I needed to force my way to a table then fend off a vicious Irish Dancer who refused to make room for me. Quickly, I snarfed my food down in painful gulps while keeping my eyes peeled for a wildly branded butter knife or errant fork.

Then they began their blood letting rites, forcing each attendee to stand and humiliatingly try to introduce themselves while others sneered and threw very tiny pumpkin pies at each victim. Tempers flared as several bloggers warred over whose business card was cuter.

As my turn neared, sweat beaded on my forehead, and I regretted wearing my stylish black and slimming, wool pull over sweater. Soon sweat beaded in unappetizing places, and my face glowed with a stop light's intensity, but I could not flee. I was hemmed in on all sides like an unsightly Rolling Stones lip.

I stood. I spoke. I ducked a few pies. They laughed at me. I knew then there would be no new friendships forged in that hellish room. I was on my own without even family to comfort me. The journey back into my seat was a long and torturous one, filled with regret and weeping.

Afterwards, a table of free books was wheeled in and soon became the center of a nightmarish maelstrom of screeching book bloggers. A child was maimed. There was much blood. I escaped only with a book about zombies eating Mr. Darcy and one with Craig Ferguson in an unseemly skirt.

Then the“socializing” began as knives were drawn, and more than spilled cocktail sauce tainted the tabletops red. No shrimp would be dipped in that vile brew. Behold the carnage:

Here a power click of authors discuss battle plans. Notice they are led by Brodi Ashton, the Scourge of the West. Bree Despain is bored with nary a Coke to quench her thirst. She clearly wants Book Blogger blood. You can see the hunger in her eyes―her wolf-like demeanor bursting through.

Emily Wing Smith makes an alliance with a book blogger before ravaging that poor woman from Cedar City.

Rick Walton fends off Brodi Ashton as her pack circles around from behind.

The sheer pandemonium of a hundred angry bibliophiles was too much for Leisha, who sought solace in a final text to her family before being overcome by a vicious LDS Book Blogger Gang from Sandy.

Next time I shall attend safely from the other side of the glass. I know better now than to mingle with Middle Grade or Young Adult authors and bloggers when food is on the table and cutting implements are an arm's reach away.