by Stella Leventoyannis Harvey

Every time I enter a room of book aficionados at a book club I wonder if I will have anything of value to say. After all, these participants are not discussing just any book. They’ve chosen my novel this month. I’m grateful and excited.

But I’m also terrified. I am as eager to please as I am to facilitate the thoughtful discourse I hope will happen. Will they feel good about the discussion? In these new situations, I simply revert to my high school persona and wonder, “will they like me?”

At most book club meetings, I know someone in the group, typically the person who has invited me. But I’ve also been to book club meetings where I didn’t know a soul. In these situations, the club has found me through a friend of a friend of a friend. Or as my husband says, “It’s easy to find you. You’re all over the internet.” Don’t ask. It’s a long story.

I accept all invitations for presentations to book clubs or schools or festivals or anywhere really. You want me to come, I’m happy to oblige. I’m honoured by the interest people show in my work. And besides I have the gift of the gab (born with it) so any occasion to engage in conversation is good.

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