The FLEX Book Tour, In Photos

The most shocking thing about touring the West Coast for my book Flex? People showed up! In Seattle:


And they showed up in Portland, though they kept their distance from me:

And they showed up in San Diego:

And holy fuck, eighty of you showed up in San Francisco:

And the weird thing is that these photos are underrepresenting the number of people who showed up. Every time I started to read, more stragglers showed up to fill seats. It was both intimidating and awesome.
Because FLEX is a book that deals a lot with donuts, I brought donuts at every stop in the tour: Top Pot was so amazingly supportive that when I told them I was buying donuts for my first book tour, they squeed and gave me an extra box:

And Portland’s Voodoo doughnuts were legendary as promised (the only other time I had them they’d been sitting on a plane for a cross-country trip, and you need to have them fresh):

Richard Feldman brought me such imposingly large donuts that merely lifting them to your mouth was like doing reps:

Though I ate every donut with the grand and glorious future of a man who was determined to gain weight:

And Technophobia brought me cupcakes to change it all up.

And in San Francisco I had delicious Aebleskivers, which aren’t technically donuts but a form of Scandinavian pancakes. I just love saying “Delicious Aebleskivers,” though.

I bought too many goddamned books at great indie bookstores (and yes, each of these books has been personally recommended to me at one point or another, and Afterparty turned out to be a great read):

Gini didn’t care about books, though. She was born and raised on the West Coast, and when she got to the coast she ran wild in her element, reminding me of why I love her so:

Me, I was just happy to see otters (and Gini will be making me an otter quilt!):

I wore my suit at every tour stop, and I looked fabulous:

And hey, you wanted to see my Flex-themed nails? Here they are.

But the best part was getting to see all my friends. There are too many to show here (and God, I’ll get complaints about the length of this entry as it is), but I did get to show people at San Francisco the woman who inspired much of Valentine DiGriz’s look, Renee, who sends me fashion photos an awful lot:

And I got my mini-Clarion reunion.

Oh, yeah: and I personally numbered every single book I signed to someone (generics stock-signings didn’t count), and eventually I topped out with #286, which went to Daniel Starr, who gave one of the earliest critiques of Flex.

(I’ll actually be continuing the numbers when I sign at Penguicon in a few weeks, and I owe my nieces a few signed copies that’ll actually put the final temp-tally at #290, but that’s where I stop for now.)
But now I am home. And tired. And manacling myself to work again. And this has been wonderful, and I thank you all for the wonderful showings-up, and the dinners out, and the crammed-in coffees, and the hugs, and the beauty you showed me when I was tired and you loved me anyway.
And the delicious Aebleskivers.
The delicious, delicious Aebleskivers.