“You’re going to be on for about an hour,” said Carrie, which had terrified Todd until she broke it down for him. The hour would consist in a brief but comprehensive introduction to the book and explanation of who he was, interspersed with two readings from All My Colors of about ten minutes’ duration, and a question and answer session which could be anything from twenty to forty minutes long.

“So you see,” Carrie said, “you’ll hardly be speaking at all.”

Todd picked up a copy of All My Colors. He was no longer able to remember whole chapters and sections like he’d been able to a few months back: it was becoming a book now, an object rather than something that had once flowed out of him. He supposed this happened to all authors, once the work had entered the real world. Like a child growing up, the book would soon have an independent life of its own.

So he worked his way through the pages, seeking dramatic scenes and exciting chapters which, while not giving away too much of the story, would also work in isolation. It was trickier than it sounded: the book was so well woven together, its themes and narrative so neatly combined, that Todd found it difficult to find a part that didn’t contain a necessary revelation or a major plot twist.

In the end he decided the first reading should, logically and inevitably, be the opening section. The second reading caused Todd more deliberation until he found the perfect selection. It was the beginning of Chapter Four, and a passage he should have remembered (from my diaper days, said his brain, unbidden) because it was one of the most important moments in the book, combining drama and menace in equal quantities.

Todd sat down and read his two sections out loud to himself, and saw that they were good. Then he read them to Sara, and she was impressed and said so.

Everything was going to go well. How could it not?

*  *  *

The night of the reading at Legolas came faster than Todd had expected. He scarcely had time to scribble down a few words about himself on a piece of card before Sara—self-designated driver for the evening—was at the door.

“Got everything?” she said, like a mom.

“Notes, check. Book, check,” said Todd.

“Let’s go,” said Sara.

*  *  *

There were, Todd was slightly sad to note, no enormous crowds outside Legolas Books. He hadn’t expected there to be, but in every author’s mind lurks the irrational hope that somehow everyone in the world has gotten hold of their book and has gone nuts for it. As All My Colors was not actually out yet, this was not so much unlikely as impossible. But still, Todd would have liked a mob.