It happened like this. I was having a quiet Sunday lunch with friends in this delightful little restaurant not far from home in the Blue Mountains. Because it was very busy, a couple of casuals were helping the regular staff; clearing the tables mainly, and serving coffee.
The proof copy of my next book, The Disappearance of Anna Popov, had just arrived, and I was showing it to my friends.
One of the casuals—a young lass of about twenty or so—spotted the book on the table. ‘Any good?’ she said. ‘I need something new to read.’
‘I’m the wrong person to ask, I suppose,’ I said.
‘Oh? You haven’t read it?’
‘He wrote it,’ interrupted my friend sitting opposite.
‘You wrote it?’ said the young waitress excitedly, and almost dropped the coffee cups she was carrying. ‘Can I have a look?’
‘Sure.’ I handed her the book, and she quickly read the blurb on the back cover.
‘That’s you,’ she shrieked, pointing to the author photo on the back.
‘It is.’
‘Wow! How cool is that. I’ve never met a writer before.’
‘Well, now you have.’
‘If I buy a copy will you sign it for me?’
‘Sure.’
‘Wow! That’s really cool.’
With that, she left the table and hurried into the kitchen.
Moments later, a waitress I knew well came to our table. She was laughing so much she could barely talk. ‘The young casual just burst into the kitchen and announced that there was a dude sitting at one of the tables who had written a book,’ she said. ‘I suppose that’s you?’
‘Must be,’ I said, ‘unless you can see another dude with a book somewhere in the place.’
‘You’re the book dude, mate,’ teased one of my friends, ‘better get used to it. Now that’s what I call cool!’
I can still hear the laughter of my friends ringing in my ears. Somehow, the name stuck, and since then I always make my restaurant reservations under the name BOOK DUDE. Cool as; eh?
