I had never been to a book signing before and I must admit that I did not know what to expect. Aside from my teacher, I had never even seen a published author. I had truthfully been in awe of my teacher for quite some time but just like hanging around any celebrity; eventually you reach some level of comfort. If I had in fact seen one of these authors they were flying under the radar, were hidden by ground clutter, or I had not recognized them. The pictures on the book jackets never do them justice. This is coupled by the fact that Hollywood celebrities have walked right in front of me in Los Angeles and I have not noticed. Sadly I am just not that observant and I am using staring at something most could consider mundane (like red squirrels for that matter, in my home they are grey).

But Judith Kitchen was a strange mixture of both the expected and the unexpected. I marveled at this woman who seemed so content to just be herself. I enjoyed how unique she was and how content she was to be unique. I was not in the presence of a mythical and legendary creature and yet I was. She definitely had mad skills. She was one of the most effective lyricists, I have ever come across. Her words drew me into a deep personal world I could never hope to understand beyond a glimpse.

Not having seen a published author before, I had built them up to be these rare and exotic creatures, when in fact; they are just really interesting creatures. And they are out there, and much more accessible than I had previously thought. I really enjoyed how Judith sat on the table casually. I thought that was a really cool thing. My teacher later confirmed that most authors stand behind podiums and recite into microphones. I think I would have been a little more intimidated had she spoken from behind the Microphone. But the fact that she sat on the table made everything just seem a bit more comfortable. As it is, I just sat there with a big dumb grin on my face. I was extremely tired and she was making me laugh.

Mostly she recited passages from her work. I especially liked the ones from Only The Dance. Her childhood was what interested me most. This is coupled with the fact that I was coupled with the fact that I was nearly exhausted. When she moved on to her other works, I found it difficult to remain conscious. But even though I did not retain very much of her later passages, her lyrics soothed my aching mind and created a very enjoyable Friday afternoon. Had I walked a few less miles that week, I know that I would have been completely intrigued.

I did perk up however towards the end when she brought out an interesting concept. Her husband, a very intriguing and enjoyable chap, passed out photocopies of a strange old photograph. The photo depicted a very attractive woman in the wilderness surrounded by odd items. She carried an old fashioned record player and a big beautiful grin. Her husband almost passed out unpublished work with the photograph, but unfortunately for anyone looking for a sneak preview, it was quickly recovered. However I was very interested in the uses of photographs for Fiction. Unfortunately I will keep these secrets to myself.