SANTA ANA: 13 JANUARY 2015 Full house, or the next thing to it. Logan, the theatre manager, was wildly excited; apparently this was their largest attendance in some while. The audience was lovely, happy to be there — part of it always has to do with the sense of being in company with other lovers of the same book, or band, or theatre piece. It was the same way with THE LORD OF THE RINGS in the old days. I can remember when the name Tolkien was a password to another shared realm of imagining — I still have several friends made during that time before the Internet, when all we had were dice and dreams. So many people who come up for sales, signings and conversation mention having met me and talked to me at this or that convention — Comic Con, Otakon, Anime Expo, Wondercon...I may not necessarily recognize them, but I dont doubt them for a minute. I tell them honestly that Ive been to a lot of conventions and talked to a great many fans over a great many years, and Im 75, and faces do blur, after all...but in fact I was always forgetful and absent-minded, as Jake or Phil or Marty — the three oldest of my old friends — can (and will) testify. I may tapdance for a time, coyly checking spelling, or perhaps foreign orthography; but people are usually generous and forgiving about it all. So if I should gaze at you in utter blankness when you introduce yourself for the fifth or sixth time, please don’t take it unkindly. There are days, after all, when I have to be reintroduced to myself. Our usual pattern, as much as we have one, is to arrive at a theatre at least a couple of hours before the scheduled screening. Travis and Dave will go in ahead of me and scout the terrain for a quiet place to stash me while they begin to set up the sales table. Sometimes it’s a manager’s office, sometimes the “party room.” Once — in Texas, I think — it was a broom closet. But in any case, it’s generally someplace quiet, where I can read, or make phone calls, or simply decide on my opening remarks. Didn’t I tell that story in Murietta, a couple of nights ago? I’ve been leaning on that joke way too much, so give it a rest, at least until Encino. And check out that stage entrance right now; it’s exactly like that one you tripped on in Eureka.... Now and then, if we’ve arrived late, and people are already arriving, and looking restless, I’ll sit with them in the theatre lobby, answer questions and tell stories until it’s time to go on for the Q&A session. It’s fun and easy; and, when I’m lucky, sometimes I’m asked questions I wasn’t expecting and don’t have a stock answer for, which actually warms me up and puts me on my mettle for the Q&A itself. With any luck, we’ll have a couple of local roustabouts to help with the heavy lifting and general schlepping. They’re almost always fan volunteers: delighted to be there, and always charming to talk with. And on this leg we’ve had Cynthia Myers, old friend and comforting presence under all circumstances. I went to dinner at the Disneyland Jungle Cafe with her and her husband Andrew, a few nights ago, and I’ve no doubt that the meal was perfectly fine, but I couldn’t tell you a thing about it today. But what my friend Cynthia was wearing, and her plans for the rest of the evening...that’s another matter. We don’t get to visit often, so we pay attention. I sit down at the sales table at about 6 PM, if the screening’s to start at 7, and sign stuff and chat with people, some of whom come specifically to buy this book or that; others haven’t recognized me or heard of my work at all, but had their interest piqued by a book cover or a poster or a friend. Talking with them, I begin to go into a different gear, gradually revitalized by human contact, no matter how tired or distracted I may be. It’ll grow stronger as I wait in the back of the theatre for Travis to make his introduction, showing off the items we have for sale or order, as well as the raffle that will follow my Q&A session. Over the weeks we’ve worked together, he’s grown smooth and confident enough to put his own stamp on the intro, not necessarily repeating Connor’s traditional patter. I time my entrance, running over a few lines that might get a laugh in this particular theatre, and considering whether I might have the chance to pee one more time before he finishes. Elderly gentlemen have to think about this stuff…. ...and then come the words that amount to my own particular fanfare: “The man of the hour, the Butterfly from the Bronx — Peter S. Beagle! ...just the way I fantasized it in high school. And here I come, sauntering down the aisle, unhurried, taking my time, just in case I’m likely to stumble on a stair step, or to trip on a hump in the carpet. Take your time, little buddy — you’ll think of something to say. You always do.
Posted on: Thu, 15 Jan 2015 21:42:01 +0000
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