There's a conference that happens the same weekend as Folsom, named (quite aptly) Folsom Fringe. It takes place the Friday and Saturday before Folsom, and offers free shuttle service to the fair itself.
So here's my big news: this year, I will be presenting a class at Folsom Fringe! The class will be on how to self-publish erotica.
I'm very, very excited. Maybe not so excited, I'm ready to start giving out socks to all my readers who ask me for them--
Ok, I gotta just throw this out here: why the fuck do so many readers ask me to send them my socks? Seriously, this is my number one request. Not signed copies of my books, oh no; my SOCKS are what readers ask me for. I don't get it. Seriously, it boggles my mind. I mean, none, NOT ONE, of my stories involve a sock fetish. Which does not mean there's anything wrong with that--you like to come on thick wooly socks, the sight of cotton anklets turns you on, then hey, sock yourself out--but it has never been delved into
(I had to get that pun in)
in any of my stories. So why, why do so many readers write me, asking for my socks? I don't get it. I really don't.
I am giving a class on self-publishing at Folsom Fringe, I am very excited, and I would love to see you there. I will also be selling autographed copies of my books.
So...come! To Folsom Fringe!
And, you know...come, in the generally understood sense of the word. Cause orgasms are always good.
It's just a suggestion, of course. I'm a sub. I don't give orders.