I have made no secret of my love for the Tucson Festival of Books, nor my desire to someday be a featured author on one of their many panels. My first dream — to be invited to attend as an author — came true last year, resulting in a memorable experience meeting engaging readers under the beautiful March Southern Arizona sunshine. I treasured every minute of the three hours I was slotted into at the Independent Author pavilion, and came away hoping I’d be invited back in 2024 — though I knew the odds were quite long, given how many submissions the Festival organizers get each year.
So I wasn’t entirely surprised when I received the initial email in January that I’d not made the cut; there are a ton of amazing authors out there — I can’t imagine how difficult it had to have been for the organizers to decide who to invite. For my part, I accepted a spot on the waitlist and then made plans to attend the Festival as a reader, never expecting I’d actually get the chance join the pavilion for the second time as an author this year.
If you’ve been following along on my blog, then you know that the call came in nearly at the last minute; I had to scramble to pull together items to have at the booth, but it was a joyous problem I was more than happy to solve.
I tried to take some of the lessons I learned from last year to heart and shifted how I priced my on-hand stock; one big change was to essentially show I had multiple copies available to sell. I’d hidden the backstock beneath the table last year, and that seemed to telegraph to people I was not truly selling anything. Focus was the book I submitted for consideration this year, which feels odd now since it came out back in 2023; it’s a bit of a reminder of how far in advance applications for these festivals open. When I wasn’t invited to attend in January — and instead added to the waitlist — I had to gamble as to whether to order stock for the show, and ultimately made the wrong call. The only copy I had on hand was my personal one, which I rather shockingly sold during the first hour(!). Lesson learned.
My neighbors this year were incredible; Mary Tolan shared my table, and is a fellow Arizona-based mystery author who was debuting her very first novel, Mars Hill Murder. We had an amazing time chatting between visiting with readers and even swapped books with each other; in fact, we had such a great time together, I’m hoping we both get to come back next year and again snag a corner of the pavilion together. On my other side was Jill Richards, a romance author also from Arizona. After dabbling ever-so-slightly in that genre with Snow Drifts, I have an insane respect for masters of that space — and Jill is definitely among their ranks.
Despite not being in the printed guide — and being accidentally placed beneath a banner declaring I was actually a nonfiction author — the stream of readers visiting my corner of the pavilion was constant. Much like last year, I had wonderful conversations with mystery aficionados as they perused my work; just about everyone took a card, and quite a few purchased one of the books I had on offer. I wasn’t expecting having actual fans of my work appear, but more than a few did, warming my heart in ways that are hard to explain. You never really know as an author was sort of connection you’re making with a reader when you produce a novel; while I get all sorts of feedback through my website and various social media outlets, nothing truly compares to speaking with someone directly. It’s one of my favorite aspects of attending the still-intimate Tucson Festival of Books, both as a reader and, now, as an author.
The biggest surprise of the day came when my dear friend, Karen, appeared at my table bearing a small tray of hand-made cookies. She is an amazing baker and has recently begun experimenting with a high-tech gizmo that can print images on her cookies; I was floored when she presented me with cookies bearing tiny representations of my various book covers, the logo for the festival and an actual map of the event (with the Indie Author tent cleverly centered).
It was an amazingly thoughtful gift that meant the world to me; as I write this, I am rather guiltily eyeing the small stack of what is left, for they are just as delicious as they look. Should I be fortunate enough to be invited next year, I’m so totally going to order several dozen to give away at the table. (You don’t have to wait quite so long, though. Karen takes orders on her website, Ladybug Cookies, for those who are in the Tucson area. I’m not certain if she ships, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask. The cookies are worth it, believe me.)
And then, just like that, there was a gentle hand on my shoulder telling me it was time to pack up and make way for the afternoon shift. The time simply flew by; those last few minutes before we cleared out seemed to go at triple speed, but not before I swapped contact information with my new friends. I am sincerely thankful to the organizers for thinking of me when they needed to unexpectedly fill a space; the opportunity to interact with readers is always welcome, especially at something as wonderful at the Festival.
I’ve already bookmarked the application page for the 2025 festival and will count down the days until the next event. Keep your fingers crossed that I am able to get in again next year…