True Story.
A few years back I was perusing in a world-famous bookstore in Denver, Colorado when I happened to spot three copies of one of my books. I removed them from the shelf, walked over to a store manager (a young, peach-fuzzed dude with so many body piercings I thought he might spring a leak), and said, "Hey, I'm the author of these books. I'd be happy to sign them if you think it might help them to sell."
The guy looks me over, takes one of the books, studies the photo on the back cover and says, "Yeah, I can see a resemblance. But I'm afraid I'll have to see some ID."
I'm thinking: Does this guy really think I fly around the country, go into bookstores, and do author impersonations just so I can sign a flyleaf or practice my caligraphy?
I put the books back on the shelf, signed them when he wasn't looking, and walked out. Any other writers have a horror story to share?
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