The LA Times Festival of Books is less than two weeks away, and the clock isn’t ticking… it’s doing jumping jacks.
I can feel it now. That quiet pressure that builds before an event, like standing backstage before the curtain rises. You’ve done this before. You know the rhythm. And yet, every time, it feels like preparing for a small expedition into the unknown—armed with books, artwork, and just enough confidence to hold it all together with a smile and a sales pitch.
The good news? I’ve got a strong foundation laid out already.
Pass—well, almost.
Transportation—handled.
Hotel—locked in.
Booth—paid for.
Books—printed, boxed, and ready to roll like literary soldiers waiting for deployment.
That’s no small feat. That’s discipline. That’s experience. That’s showing up like a professional.
But then comes the second list… the sneaky list. The one that whispers, “Don’t forget me,” right when you’re trying to relax.
I still need to dial in the Square app and credit card reader. No more losing sales because technology and I are having a disagreement in public. This time, I walk in ready—cards, cash, whatever they’ve got, I’ll take it.
Then there’s transportation between the hotel and USC. That’s a strategy game. Do I Uber? Do I walk? Do I teleport using sheer artistic willpower? Probably Uber or the bus —but I’ll map it out ahead of time so there are no surprises.
I’ve got to secure my pass officially, not just mentally check it off like, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I exist and am allowed in.” No. Paperwork. Confirmation. Done.
And then there’s something just as important as the logistics—connection. I want to reach out to my brother, see if we can spend some time together while I’m in LA. These events aren’t just about selling books. They’re about stitching together moments—family, conversation, shared space in a busy world.
And when it’s all said and done… when the booth is packed up, the last book is sold, the final handshake fades into memory—I know exactly what’s waiting for me back home.
A loving mother.
A kitten who probably thinks I’ve been gone for seven years instead of two days.
A little universe of warmth that no convention center can compete with.
And somewhere in all of this, there’s another quiet victory forming.
I already know USC is a smoke-free campus. No pacing outside with a cigarette. No “just one to take the edge off.” None of it.
And honestly? Good.
Because this isn’t just a checklist for a book festival.
It’s a checklist for showing up better than I did last time.
Sharper. Healthier. More present.
The art. The people. The conversations. The purpose.
That’s the real draw.
Once again… I got this.
by Dan and Bonkers
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