“We have an extra special coffee and dessert evening planned for you !” said the woman at the front of church. “With a guest author!”
“Oh dear,” I thought.
A name was mentioned – Katrina Nannestad. I hadn’t heard it before.
“Oh dear,” I thought.
Someone beside me whispered that the author was somebody’s wife’s something.
“Oh dear,” I thought. “I bet it’s someone who’s busily congratulating themselves on the decision to self-publish their utterly awful drivel, and who is now desperately self-promoting while putting off the realisation that no-one would willingly buy their book except through sheer face-to-face embarrassment.”
And everyone at church knows I’m a writer, too. I bet they think I’m SO pleased.
Oh dear.
I went home and googled Katrina Nannestad. The word “diary” in the title rang loud alarm bells – but she WAS published by Harper Collins, so she had to be pretty all right. I emailed the woman from church saying I’d come, and ordered “Red Dirt Diary” from the library. If it was awful, I could just keep quiet at the ladies’ evening and no-one would get hurt.
The rest of the review is at Comfy Chair, where I get paid for it.
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