He was big, looked to be between 45-50, had a typical Texas drawl and a rodeo belt buckle. He was in Reesa’s store buying a tatoo for his wife, and I was hanging around and keeping Reesa company. He looked at me as I walked in and said, “Do I know you from somewhere?” “Can’t think where,” I said. “You look familiar. Are you an actor?” “No, but I’m told I look a bit like Alan Rickman.” “Maybe that’s it.” He didn’t seem convinced.
I didn’t ask if he read sf, or read at all. He just wasn’t the type.
After about half an hour, I got really disgusted with myself for believing there was a “type” who read, and thinking that a Texas drawl and a rodeo belt buckle meant he didn’t read. I went back out. “Uh, do you read?” “All the time.” “Science fiction and fantasy?” “Mostly science fiction. I thrive on it.” “Oh. Uh, I’m sorry. You may have been me on the back cover a book.” “Oh yeah? What have you written.” “Jhereg?” “No.” “To Reign in Hell?” “No.” “Dzur?” “Damn! You wrote Dzur? I’ve got that! It’s on my stack…”
So, yeah, anyway, I apologized for prejudging him, and he was very gracious about it, and we talked about favorite writers for a while. Cool guy, Texas drawl and rodeo belt buckle and all.
Let this be a lesson to me.