Fame...Possibly

Pretend you're at a party. Not a rip-roaring gangbuster of a blitz, but a small gathering. It's comfortable. Cozy. You know most people but not all. One of the strangers approaches you, and without fanfare or even a hey-how's-it-going, they corner you and say, "I read your book." That's it Nothing more. Perhaps this is just small talk, but it sure sounds like a threat.

Yeah, well, this scenario is not make-believe. It happens to me, and I NEVER know how to respond. Usually I mumble some stupid comeback. Take your pick:

A.) "Oh."

B.) "Umm...you want me to give you a gold star or what?"

C.) Awkward silence followed by, "So...how about those insert-sports-team-of-your-choice?"

I suppose all this is because I'm too gutless to ask how they liked it. I mean, what if they hated the story? The characters? The cover or the overall theme? What if they hate me?

Or worse...what if they came to some existential literary conclusions that I accidentally wrote and I don't have a clue what they're talking about?

Are all writers this psychotic or is it just me?

Whatever the answer may be, I should probably come up with a proactive plan for the next time I'm stuck in an uncomfortable situation. And as much as I hate to admit it, my mom's advice from many moons ago is as pertinent as ever. Memorize, along with me, this timeless nugget of sage advice.

Smile and say thanks.

Of course, no matter how hilarious I think it might be, I should also stop writing Jodi Piccoult on my nametag.