Taking My Place at the Author Table

 

No one tells you how vulnerable it feels to sit behind a table filled with books carrying your name.

Writing is often private work. It happens quietly, in early mornings, late nights, stolen lunch breaks, and moments when a sentence refuses to leave you alone. For weeks, months, or even years, the story belongs almost entirely to you.

Then one day, you place it on a table.

You arrange the books so the covers face outward. You straighten the bookmarks. You check the price signs again, even though you already know they are correct. You wonder whether anyone will stop, whether they will pick up a book, and whether they will recognize some part of themselves inside the words you wrote.

On August 8, I will be participating in the Fireweeds Festival at the Campbell County Public Library here in Gillette. I am excited, grateful, and carrying more nerves than I expected.

I have attended events before. I have talked about my writing, shared poetry, and introduced people to the stories that matter to me. Even so, every author event feels like another invitation to step forward and say, “Yes, I wrote this. Yes, it matters to me. Yes, I am willing to let you see it.”

That kind of visibility is not always comfortable.

For much of my life, taking up space did not come naturally. Many of us learn how to be useful, accommodating, dependable, and quiet. We learn how to make room for other people before asking whether there is any room left for us. We learn to measure our value by what we can provide while keeping our own needs, hopes, and ambitions tucked safely out of sight.

Writing has challenged that habit.

Publishing asks me to claim my voice. Promoting my work asks me to believe it deserves attention. Sitting at an author table asks me to stop hiding behind the pages and stand beside them instead.

That may be one of the bravest parts of becoming an author.

It is not only the courage to write honestly. It is the courage to let the work exist where other people can respond to it. They may connect with it. They may misunderstand it. They may love it, walk past it, or never notice it at all.

The writer still has to show up.

As I prepare for Fireweeds, I have been thinking about what I want people to feel when they stop at my table. Of course, I hope they are interested in my books. I hope they ask questions. I hope a poem, character, or line of description catches their attention.

More than that, I hope they feel welcome.

I want my table to feel like an invitation—to readers who are healing, changing, beginning again, or trying to find language for experiences they have carried quietly.

That is the thread running through so much of my work.

The Shape of Healing grew from the understanding that recovery is rarely neat or predictable. Raised by Wind reflects the landscape, memories, and resilience that shaped me. The Taste of Crimson explores desire, identity, power, and the possibility of claiming a fuller life later than expected.

The books may be different, but they all carry pieces of the same belief:

We are allowed to change.

We are allowed to want more.

We are allowed to tell the truth about where we have been.

And we are allowed to take up space in the lives we are still creating.

So this week, I will gather my books, supplies, table decorations, and probably far too many things I will convince myself I might need. I will prepare as carefully as I can. Then I will arrive, arrange my table, take a breath, and sit down behind the work I once wondered whether anyone would ever read.

I will remind myself that I belong there.

Not because I have sold a certain number of books.

Not because I have reached some invisible level of success.

Not because I feel completely confident.

I belong there because I wrote the words. I finished the work. I chose to share it.

Sometimes becoming an author is less about publishing a book and more about learning to stand beside it.

This weekend, I am taking my place at the author table.

And I am proud to be there.

I will be at the Fireweeds Festival on August 8 at the Campbell County Public Library in Gillette, Wyoming. Stop by, say hello, and spend a little time with local authors, artists, and the stories growing right here in our community.





Location: Gillette, WY, USA

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