I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m just hanging around with nothing to do. It feels weird to stop moving.
One of the mistakes I thought I made back in Milford was that I didn’t get a lot of outreach done prior to the performance. It’s hard to drum up publicity when you’re traveling. I didn’t meet too many people along the way, and when I did meet them, I mostly didn’t tell them what I was doing. I hung a few flyers up as soon as I got to town – but by then, it was too late for anybody to see them.
This time, I resolved to do better. I arrived in Wilmington a full two days early, having papered every bulletin board between here and Brattleboro. I expected to spend all of yesterday hanging my little flyers all around Wilmington, but the bookstore had already beaten me to it. So I spent the day wandering around town, randomly popping into stores, cafes, restaurants and taverns, talking to people and handing out business cards.
Wilmington is an adorable town, but it doesn’t take long to walk it from one end to the other. Which leaves me today with nothing much to do.
Altogether, I figure I walked about 14 miles yesterday, even though I spent the night within 3 miles of town. That 14 miles included a six-mile round-trip jaunt in the rain, up and down a muddy, mountainous road, to seek out a gallery called The Art of Humor. I couldn’t resist the name. I was looking forward to meeting the artist. Unfortunately, the gallery was closed when I got there.
It’s going to be a good performance tomorrow. I’ve talked to a lot of people, and Bartleby’s Books managed to get the local paper to do a nice writeup. It should be a good crowd, but I’ve learned my lesson: I’ll talk to the folks who came, and not worry about the folks who didn’t.