A few months before graduating from Indiana University, I told my parents that I did not want to work in Chicago as my sister had. I wanted to start my career in New York and work in marketing.  They thought I was out of my mind. Who relocated to a strange city where they knew not a soul, just to do the food shopping for some company?

Years later when I informed them that I’d sold my first novel to Avon, they pondered the wisdom of going with a publisher that sold books door to door. And a few years ago when I told them I had my own website, they cranked up the Web TV and tried to check it out, but because it was built with Flash, for them it was like trying to tune into Radio Free Europe. The task of seeing my site required a trip to the library to use their computers, followed by several visits to friends until at last finding one who owned the latest technology and could show them my site. My father said it was very nice, but what good was it if nobody could find the station?

I’ve done a lot of head shaking over the years (as we probably all have trying to help our parents keep up with the times), but just as they predicted, turnaround is fair play. Now it’s my turn to feel like the village idiot as my kids keep forcing me to adapt to all the technology, and um, they are not very patient. “OMG Mom!!! I’ve shown you this six times already,” said my daughter when I asked her again how to upload my photos and create albums I can share. “Mom!!! Pay attention,” said my other daughter when I asked her how to remind me again how to get new ring tones on my cell.  “It’s so easy!” “Mom, you really need to step it up with your site,” said my son the Internet expert. “You need more key words, more meta tags, more search engine optimization. Are you using the latest version of Firefox?”

I’m having a hard enough time trying to install the latest version of me. On the one hand I’m 53 and celebrating my 31st wedding anniversary tomorrow (Happy Anniversary Lee!!!!).  On the other hand, who cares? it’s a young person’s world and it’s either get with the program or be labeled functionally obsolescent.

I was reminded of this last month when I went into the city for several meetings and ended up waiting around for a half an hour for my 3:30 until I finally reached the man.  He said, “Oh? Didn’t you get my e-mail that I had to reschedule?” No, because I left the house early this morning. He was dumbfounded. Didn’t I have a BlackBerry? How could I not have a BlackBerry????  I don’t know. I thought it was good enough that I learned how to text message and send pictures from my phone.  And hey, I learned how to post a blog, add images and respond to comments.  Isn’t that good for extra credit?

Apparently not.  I am still failing at using my webcam and Skype.  Move over Mom and Dad.  I miss the days when we could pick up the phone and be surprised by who was calling.

Some people envy my job. I sit in solitude all day talking to fictional characters, and if they annoy me, at the touch of keystroke, I can delete, delete, delete. Wish I had the same power in my mortal life, but that’s for another day. Meanwhile, it does get a tad lonely. All the water cooler talk is in my head. That’s why when my books are finally published, I welcome the chance to get out and speak to groups. Especially the ones who sing my praises and tell me they love my work… (Wish I could take them all to lunch to say thanks, but until my ass isn’t the same shape as my chair, it’s not happening).

This past Saturday was another great event at the beautiful, new Barnes & Noble in Lake Grove, Long Island with my friend and fellow Avon Author, Ellen Meister, author of the hilarious, heartfelt novel, THE SMART ONE.  She keeps saying in jest that it’s her autobiography, but in truth, she is THE SMART ONE.  She’s taught me so much about using the Internet to help promote my book, and shared her inside information on publishing, as she once worked on the other side of the desk at a literary agency. It’s been a joy appearing with her and fingers crossed we get to keep going.

Meanwhile, we had a wonderful audience who laughed and clapped in all the right places. It was also so nice to have friends, family and colleagues join us… Got to meet the very nice book blogger, Susan Henderson (www.litpark.com) and Avon’s Director of Advertising and Promotion, Debbie Mercer, who happened to be shopping in the store.

Afterward, we signed books and heard lots of encouraging words. One woman commented that she’d read a great review of my book in “People” magazine and I almost fell over. Really? People? How did I not know that??? Then she remembered that no, it wasn’t “People”, it was the “Long Island Press”. Hmmm. People has a world wide circulation of over a million readers and the “Long Island Press” is free at the bagel store. But it was an honest mistake, and maybe she was having a premonition.

Here are some other comments that made it a fun day:

“Did they send one of those cute little limousines for you guys or did you have to drive here yourself?”

“Why did they pick such a scary cover for your book? It creeps me out (woman shivers).

“Do all your books have happy endings? I hate that.”

It’s all great, the meet and greets, the talking about books and writers and what it’s like to be published… the Internet is an awesome tool but there is nothing quite like having a person look you in the eye and hear her say, “You’re wonderful. Too bad you’re married. I have a son for you if it doesn’t work out.”

I’m happy to say that my husband and I are celebrating our 31st anniversary this week, so her son is out of luck. But it’s the thought that counts. And at least she bought two copies of my book.

Sweet!

I’ve been writing books for 20 years, which is an amazing feat since I’m only 25 (X2ish), but back in the olden days of publishing, when computers were used to play Pong, if you got reader mail, your only choice was to chuck the letter or spend a half an hour typing a reply, addressing the envelope, licking the stamp (yes, that’s right, we didn’t have cute little sticker stamps), licking the envelope and dropping it in a mailbox. Exactly. After a while, I voted for “A” chuck them after the pile grew as big as the single sock pile from the dryer and all anyone wanted to know was how did I get an agent.

Now it’s a breeze to respond. Get an email, write a reply, hit send, hope you don’t end up in their spam file and it’s back to business- reading the latest on whether Jennifer Anniston is or IS NOT having John Mayer’s baby and if it’s true that Sienna Miller is going to be listed as the new dictionary definition of tramp (fine by me).

Most e-mails from readers are wonderful day brighteners filled with high praise and enough compliments to swell my head until I’m brought down to earth by my three reality checks (aka my kids). MOMMMMM there are no clean towels up here. MOMMMMMMM There’s never anything to eat around here!!!!

But of late I’ve been getting some very unusual reader e-mails, like this one: “Trying to help my wife forfill her dreams and achieve her goal of publishing her novel.  She is a talented writer and the husband usually dies in her stories so I think that is a hint for hubby help me get published or perish.  Please help me.”

And this one : “THANKS A LOT. Really. I planned to read a couple of pages of your book that was recommended to me and then go to sleep which I should have been doing an hour before but had to MAKE myself stop at 2am and page 143. Thanks a lot. This book is so good that I am now walking around lk a zombie today!!!!  I hate to even pick it up again because I know I will be forced to just nod my head when my kids talk to me while I read on, unable to stop! Please stop reading this and start on your next book. At this pace, and with no sleep, I will be finished with this book by 3am. Thanks a lot.”

But this e-mail had me on the floor: “Just read Drop dead. Started it Thursday pm and Finished it Friday AM!!  Thank you again for your wonderful books. I am turning my friends onto them. ps.. I awoke 2 weeks ago to an \”open house\” sign in my front yard (that I did not place there. It had a handwritten note in big black letters saying CHEAP HOUSE FOR SALE BY BITCH… that would be the gift of the not soon enuf to be X  !!!! ”

If you’ve seen my latest novel, Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead, you know why this is so tragi-funny. The tag line says: A For Sale Sign on Your Lawn is Fine, Unless You’re Not the One Who Put it There… I do hope that the cover wasn’t this incorrigible man’s inspiration.

Meanwhile, I look forward to logging in and seeing what great messages Cyber Santa left me in my in box. If you haven’t written to me yet, please do. saralee@saraleerosenberg.com Unless you’re asking for money, I do respond ASAP.

Honestly, it is awesome hearing from strangers who took the time to read my book and who let me know how much they enjoyed it.  Makes all those years sitting in a dark, cold basement beating off spiders with a yardstick worth the effort! Write on!!!!

It’s every writer’s dream to show up at a book signing and watch the event coordinator at the store scramble for more chairs. I’m happy to report in from the front lines that it’s not time for crowd control and plastic bracelets yet, but OMG, people are showing up!

Last night, my friend and fellow Avon author, Ellen Meister and I did a book talk at the Barnes & Noble in Carle Place, Long Island and held our breath. We had no idea what to expect. Big crowd? Little crowd? People who just wanted to come in out of the rain? We were especially holding our breath because our appearance at the famed Book Revue the week before was suddenly wrecked due to Tropical Storm Killjoy! An hour before the start of the event, a wicked storm hit us and while we didn’t see any cows fly by, it sure did look like gruesome and many people stayed home… not that we blamed them for not wanting to see if their cars could double as hovercraft. Even our wonderful moderator, Debbi Honorof, the book editor of “Long Island Woman” magazine had to wade through rivers to make it.

Anyway, there we were, getting ready for this next gig, one we’ve been planning for months and sending out our little e-vites and spreading the word through family, friends and interviews, and you bet we were watching the weather forecast like the captain of a ship. Please, please, don’t let the skies open again even though thunderstorms were predicted, only to discover that Kristin the events manager was holding her own little prayerathon… The night we were at Book Revue, she had chef Bobby Flay scheduled and had set up for 700 people…. Yep. They had a small turnout too.

OK, but enough kvetching. We had a wonderful SRO turn out last night, the audience laughed at all the right places, asked super good questions, patiently waited in line to have their books signed and just plastered the place with great vibrations.

Ellen and I left in amazing spirits and celebrated with dinner at CPK, where we literally inhaled everything they brought to the table.

Sweet dreams indeed!

Imagine my thrill, my delight, when he responded THAT VERY DAY!!!! Like a school girl, I read his short, entertaining letter several times. He did not remember our conversation, which was fine because it’s hard for me to remember ones from yesterday, let alone almost 35 years ago. But, he was happy to hear that he was nice to me and that I was now a published author myself. He also advised me NOT TO CHANGE MY NAME, something I’m being prompted to do (more on that another day). The great Sol Stein said the name Saralee Rosenberg swings and its easy to pronounce. Good enough for me!

We exchanged several more e-mails and yesterday I sent him a copy of DEAR NEIGHBOR, DROP DEAD. I’m sure that bickering neighbors and suburban angst are hardly topics he’d find amusing, but hey, who doesn’t need a few laughs?

It felt great to be able to connect with Sol and my hope is that if you take the time to write me, you’ll get a kick out of reading my reply as much as I did reading his (if you don’t hear from me, check your spam filter- I end up there a lot).

It’s a wonderful time. Readers and writers exchanging words on line. Me thinks Shakespeare would have adored the chance.

Everyone! Yet authors who write funny books are the Rodney Dangerfields of the publishing biz. We get no respect. We’re more like those try-so-hard photographers at Sears who take pictures of babies all day long. People love looking at them, they just don’t think of it as art. But c’mon. What would you rather do? Curl up with a book that makes you laugh so hard you need Kleenex and Depends, or one that some reviewer said was stunning and important and by page 3 has you wondering when is the last time you had Taco Bell? Exactly. Defend funny writers! We need all the free love we can get