My Tour (In a Nutshell)
By Barbara Park, Children's Bookshelf -- Publishers Weekly, 3/20/2008
I like being home.
I like writing children’s books.
And I hate doing book tours.
If I could circulate a Random House memo, it would read: Barbara Park does not tour well. She is a whiner. She doesn’t sleep well away from home and she hates to fly. No matter how lovely we try to make it for her, she is never grateful to us for the “touring opportunity.” Barbara Park is one of the great ingrate authors of all time. Do not tour Barbara Park.
Until last month, I had done exactly two book tours in my 28-year career. It’s a record any ingrate author could be proud of. But that has never stopped my publicist Kathy Dunn from prodding for more. This year—with my picture book MA! There’s Nothing to Do Here! due out—Kathy knew she had me. This book was originally a poem to my daughter-in-law. I wrote it after seeing the sonogram of my first grandson. Since then, there has been a second grandson. There is a photo of both of them on the inside front flap of the book. Touring would mean I could gush over their picture with perfect strangers without pulling out my wallet in the grocery store line.
And so it began.
Day 1: fly to Chicago
 Barbara Park, with her grandchildren. |
I am supposed to meet Kathy and my agent Amy Berkower for dinner at my hotel. Amy is in town to accompany an author to an appearance on Oprah. Oprah Shmoprah. In a few days I have a 6:45 AM spot on Wake-Up Milwaukee.
I arrive in Chicago too late for dinner. Kathy and I stay up late talking. Like me, Kathy says she never sleeps well away from home. Thirty minutes after she goes to her room, I call her to suggest that we skip breakfast.
Kathy is asleep.
Kathy is also a liar, apparently.
Days 2 and 3: Chicago
I do two bookstore signings. Both are good turnouts for a blizzard, I am told.
At the first signing, I am overwhelmed when a family I met through the Make-a-Wish Foundation appears at the table. They’re as beautiful and as strong I remember them. Seeing them is the first of many gifts the tour will give me.
It’s late when Kathy and I get back to the hotel. There is no one in the restaurant except a waiter and a piano player. We go in and order dinner. While we wait, I ask Kathy to dance. She declines. Kathy is not being fun.
We’re scheduled to meet at the front desk at 6 AM. Kathy gets there early and checks us out. The moment she does, the lights in my room go off and I’m standing in pitch black darkness. Since when has the front desk had this kind of technology available? I grope for whatever items are within reach and feel my way to the door.
Day 4: Milwaukee
 Speaking to the crowd at Harry W. Schwartz Bookshop in Brookfield, Wis. |
The bookstore event that night goes well. Again, it’s late when Kathy and I get back to the hotel. We haven’t eaten, but the restaurant is closed, so we sit in the lobby and order a glass of wine. The waitress delivers complimentary nuts. Kathy’s eyes light up and she begins throwing back nuts like there’s no tomorrow. Her crunching resonates throughout the hotel. Heads turn. Six small bowls are gone before it is blessedly over.
The concierge at the hotel stops by to tell me that he and his granddaughter have read all my Junie B. Jones books. He is a grandfather and he loves Junie B. Now I love him. Seriously. That’s how easy I am.
Day 5: fly to Dallas
At the airport, a TSA agent yanks my bag out of the X-ray machine and asks me to follow him to the “now-I’m-going-to-rifle-through-your-dainties” area. When I try to help him unzip it, he shouts STAND AWAY FROM THE BAG! Are these folks really trained to shout that? If so, I think it should be posted somewhere.
I have no knowledge of how the hotel wine bottle opener got in my suitcase. But I am happy when I get to keep it.
 Park signs for fans at a Barnes & Noble in Dallas. |
The book signing in Dallas has long lines and great people. Especially memorable is a pregnant woman who patiently reads to her kids while her husband holds their place in line. Where do people like this come from, and why are they so different than me? I would have been faking labor pains and asking for cuts.
Day 6: Houston
Kathy heads back to New York. She tells me that this has been the plan all along, but I have no recollection of this. To this day, I think she just bailed.
I fly to Houston and meet her replacement Kelly Galvin. Kelly doesn’t look like a nut eater. Maybe this will work out.
Day 7: Denver
After a nice event in Houston, Kelly and I fly to Denver. I look out the window as we land. More snow. Yay.
Kelly and I meet our escort and trek to the car which is surrounded by a slush moat. As Kelly opens the door, her foot disappears to the ankle. She turns to me and offers to lie in the slush so I can step into the car without getting my feet wet. I nod and wait. She laughs and gets in the car.
I do not like Kelly.
The bookstore event goes well that night. Kelly offers to gives me her coat and fetch me tea. She is finally coming around.
Days 8 and 9: Phoenix
We are at the airport heading to Phoenix when, once again, the X-ray machine rears its ugly head. This time, two TSA agents work as a team. One grabs my suitcase while the other grabs a plastic bag. Together they rid my carryon of four hotel-size toothpastes.
This is a new one on me. What exactly is the danger of toothpaste? Do they think I will storm the cockpit and try to brush the pilot’s teeth really, really hard?
When we finally board the plane, Kelly follows our established protocol and does not try to cast her eyes upon me as she passes me in first class on her way to the cheap seats. Queen Elizabeth has the same protocol. I saw it on a Barbara Walters special.
Then, at last... I’m home.
Two more book signings and the tour will be over.
Both local events are wonderful. It is at the last event that the tour gives me my final gift. Popping up across the table is the second little girl I met through the Make-a-Wish Foundation. She is smiling and looking radiant. No words for that except thank you.
Day 10:
I stand in my closet and stare down at nine days of dirty clothes still in my suitcase.
I zip it back up and go to check my email.
MA! There’s Nothing to Do Here! has made the New York Times bestseller list.
I clap and laugh out loud.
Icing on the cake.
