Mutha of gawd, do I ever have writer's block. All I need is three good pages of text for my radio commentary, and yet I'm skunked. I was surrounded by thousands of books tonight, horribly frustrated by the fact that all those tomes had writers who actually got the job done - and someone liked their words enough to pay them to keep writing. Arrrrg!
Why, when I was feeling creatively bereft, did I taunt myself with stacks of books? Well, I went to a book signing at the stripmall Barnes & Noble on Rockville Pike.
Strangely, this B&N location is a hang-out for riders of Japanese motorcycles and peeps who street race Honda Accords. We call it the Fast & Furious Barnes & Noble. Tonight I saw two total doorknobs wearing leather jackets utterly reminiscent of Michael Jackson's cheesy gear in the "Thriller" video. These dudes stood outside the Starbucks entrance to B&N, lattes in hand... with their helmets still on their heads. Yes, we get it. You ride motorcycles. I desperately wanted to see one of the guys coat himself in $4 coffee, trying to get the beverage past his jumbo, oversized, primary-colored brain bucket.
But I digress...
The book signing was for Frank Warren of PostSecret. He gave a talk (which I missed) and showed some cards that have not been published on the website. By the time I arrived, there was an eager sea of folks waiting to get their books signed. I was the very last person in line when I got up to the table, having arrived very late from work. Frank didn't quite remember who I was when I got up to the table, yet he greeted me - as he greeted every person that evening - with a smile, a handshake and an introduction. What a gentleman!
When I reminded Frank who I was, and that I'd interviewed him, he smiled, recalled us having spoken at a DC Blogger Meet-up, and then complimented my writing out here. That was very generous of him. We spoke briefly about the Blogger Meet-up - he's hoping to be there next week - and then I left.
I can't tell you exactly how many people had been there, but the line to meet Frank snaked far around the second floor. Interestingly, the vast majority of fans waiting for a signature (and, often, a photo) were teenagers. Very clearly, the phenomenon of PostSecret has hit home with teens, who are so often wrapped in difficult secrets. One girl was hyperventilating as she left after shaking Frank's hand. Another was crying. Pretty wild.
Well... I've written a handful of paragraphs. That's a nice start, but it hasn't gotten me a dang bit closer to having my commentary finished.
I'm going to bed. Maybe a decent night's sleep will improve the situation...