This weekend I shared a booth with two other local writers at the Twain Harte Summer Art and Wine Fair.

When I was asked to do it, it felt like a no-brainer. Having a table at an art fair sounded so glamorous to me, such a fun way to sell books. I couldn’t wait to do it.

But, yesterday morning, fifteen minutes into the experience, I turned to my husband and said in a low voice, “I made a mistake. I want to go home.” He replied, “The fair is not even open yet.” Which was true. It opened at 10:00...