The Greatest Fraud In The World by Mariam Kobras

 



 

I stood in front of the mirror and put on lipstick and mascara, tried to do the best I could with my hair and checked again to see if I had chosen the right dress. Did it seem right to wear perfume, or would it be better without? Jewelry, yes or no? Shoes or sandals?

Safely tucked away in the bathroom I felt safe, but from downstairs I could hear THEM arriving, the people who had come to hear my first ever book reading. I could hear my friend and host Sue greet them and offer them some wine, and I listened how they chatted about their gardens and their kids, and I stood up there, on the landing, and tried to think of ways to get out of the house without being seen. Not that Sue would ever have permitted that, of course, but the thought was there.

So I walked down the stairs, and there were all those expectant faces turned up at me, bright smiles on their faces, curiosity in their eyes, and cold fear ran down my back. I knew there was NOTHING I could offer them, nothing at all, that would seem in any way special, or interesting, or least of all, riveting. And yet, that was expected of me. I'm an author now. My book is about to be published. My job is to entertain, and to promote. I have to sell my product, and myself. I AM part of the product. If I can make people be fascinated by me, my own story, by what I tell them and how I do it, then they'll be interested in buying my book, and that's what I'm ultimately aiming for.

But here is the crux: Yes, I have written a book, and now that I know I'm good enough to be published, I'll write others. That makes me an author, but it does not necessarily make me a stand-up comedian or entertainer. Some authors have that gift, like Neil Gaiman. Oh, he is the master of book readings. Going to one of HIS readings is like going to see a very good one-man theater show. But getting a book deal does not mean you get a free course in how to present yourself to the world as author. This is something you have to figure out for yourself, and you better do it quickly, and I'll tell you why.

For me, nothing has changed. I may have that book deal, that precious, elusive and much-coveted piece of paper that turns a lonely writer instantaneously into that other thing, the admired, envied and successful author, but I'm still the same person. Nothing changes. I get a lot more mail than before, true, but mostly they are from the publisher and VERY mundane, and they just give me more work. But besides that, nothing has changed. My life has not changed. There are no limousines and flashlights, no parties and galas. It's still just me, my computer, daily lunch for the family and some crime shows on TV at night.

And yet, those guests at my first book reading, when I walked down the stairs, saw something else in me. I could see it in their expressions. For them, I was THE author. The one staying at Sue's house, the one with the published book.

But here is the interesting part.

I was introduced, we stood around for a few minutes and chatted about the garden, the kids and my trip through the US and Canada this summer, and at some point I said, "So I guess I'll start reading now."  I sat down and read, and when I was done they asked questions about the book and me, and that turned into another chat about careers and dreams and the freedom to pursue them, and suddenly I was a friend among friends and no longer some kind of celebrity they had come to see, and I think that pleased my listeners. They were pleased that under all the  – imagined – gloss there was a real person who had not yet figured out what had happened to her and how life would go on from there.

I still feel like the greatest fraud in the world when I sign my pre-launch booklet, but I'm getting used to it, and my signature is getting smoother too. And I would be lying if I said I don't enjoy doing it. I do enjoy it. A lot.