1. What you wear is important. I drove up to New Hampshire with fellow author Kristi Petersen Schoonover, who advised me during the drive that I shouldn’t wear green, orange, patterns, or too much makeup. I shouldn’t wear jewelry that was too sparkly, and now was NOT the time to try a new fashion trend. There were sound reasons for this: green would blend in with the green screen, making me look like a floating head with no torso; orange is apparently a bad color on me; patterns make people look fat on TV; makeup melts. Sparkly jewelry is distracting and can cause weird flashy things to happen, and a new fashion trend that I’d never tried would make me uncomfortable.

I wore black.

Remember a few years ago when everyone had to get a digital TV converter box if they still wanted to get over-the-air local television, like CBS or ABC? There was a big panic and kerfuffle as people fought over boxes like 1983 Cabbage Patch dolls. Riots occurred in the streets; mothers wept; children were sold into slavery in exchange for a Roku box . . .

No? That’s not what happened? I wouldn’t actually know, because my house is located in a black hole that no digital television signals can penetrate. I have been unable to watch local television or even the news as it airs since I moved off of Block Island over ten years ago. And I’ll admit it: it’s kind of nice.

We’re not total Neanderthals. We had satellite TV until the trees around the house grew so tall that we could no longer get signals. We scrapped the dish, signed up for Netflix streaming, and called it a day.

Our lives changed for the better. Netflix, you see, allows for on-demand viewing, so you can binge-watch, say, all eleven seasons of M*A*S*H in one weekend. I can stream Netflix on the iPad, so I could watch old episodes of Forensic Files while scrubbing the toilet. If the power went out, I could watch old episodes of Forensic Files while heating up dinner over a Sternocan. On any given weekend, you’d find me folding laundry, old episodes of Forensic Files looping from the iPad propped up on top of the dryer. Life without regular television isn’t so bad.

There are more bonuses, too. I can’t watch the news, so I never get worked up over politics or people behaving badly. If I can’t see or hear you, Donald Trump, I don’t have to waste precious energy hating you. I plan on buying a copy of Time magazine when the election gets closer to learn about the candidates before voting. Doesn’t that sound lovely? No commercials, no CNN, no Fox News. It’s a peaceful life I lead.

I will admit that there are a couple of television shows I can’t live without. One of them, Downton Abbey, is available for free online at PBS.org the day after the newest episode airs. For the others, God created the miracle known as the iTunes Season Pass, for He is a generous God. Sure, I have to pay $20 a season to watch The Walking Dead and Survivor, but again, this still beats rolling over a CD every month just to pay the cable bill. Plus, no commercials!

Some of my friends would say that because of my lack of regular television, I am alarmingly uninformed regarding current events. This may be true. But my blood pressure was 118/60 the last time I went for a physical. Did I miss a wildfire out in California that I can do nothing to stop, or the GOP debate? I sure did, and that’s just fine with me. I’m not completely uninformed, however. I do read the Block Island Times online on a regular basis. I’m well aware that Mark’s Beachcomber Hair Design is seeing an influx of windblown hair tragedies this week.

I feel for the windblown ladies—I really do. But life is short. And it’s just a little sweeter when I don’t have the weight of the world blasting at me from the television.

It’s that time of year again, when small country fairs start popping up like boils on a warthog. We have a lot of fall harvest fairs here in Connecticut, and I’ve been to them all. Here is my list of my favorite local celebrations:

Brooklyn Fair

In terms of size, the Brooklyn Fair is probably considered “quaint.” They do have some fun exhibits, like beekeepers and the old diesel engines that are boring as all heck to me but that I’m sure my father would appreciate.

Must See: There’s a wide variety of cows and bulls to admire, if you’re the sort of person who appreciates a healthy, well-groomed Holstein.

You Can Skip: I had the worst apple fritters that I’ve ever put in my mouth at this fair. I still regret not holding out for the mac ’n cheese vendor. I’ll know better next year.

Hebron Harvest Fair

I’ve been going to this fair all of my life, so really, this is a nostalgia thing for me. Over the years, I’ve seen them lose the used-book vendor, the mouse races, the giant candy tent, and the guy who sells chocolate-covered, cherry-glaze-coated popcorn. I still go, though, in the hopes that some day, the racing mice will return.

Must See: They do get some impressive musical performers. And the Demolition Derby is fun, I suppose.

You Can Skip: The camel at the petting zoo. Cool to look at, sure, but careful—she bites. Hard. Visit the pygmy goats instead. They bite, but softer.

Durham Fair

The Durham Fair is reputedly the largest agricultural fair in the state, and given the crowds they get every year, I believe it. There are tons of vendors, an impressive Better Living barn, and oxen pulls. There are also crying babies in strollers, crying adults on scooters, exhausted people, and lots and lots of elbows and body odor.

Must See: The Sweet Cioccolata guy. Remember the chocolate-covered cherry-glaze-coated popcorn I mentioned that I miss at Hebron? This is the one fair where that guy still sets up shop. And yes, I’m the kind of person who will pay $13 just to get into the fair and buy his wares.

You Can Skip: The animals. After Brooklyn and Hebron, haven’t you seen enough goats already?

Woodstock Fair

I think (sorry, Hebron) that this is my favorite fair. It’s huge, there’s a wide variety of vendors and exhibits, and the food—oh, the food! Bacon cheeseburgers and cheese fries and fried cheese nuggets and the Cabot cheese sample people in the agricultural barn . . . but it’s not just about the cheese. There’s the Ben & Jerry’s booth and the World’s Best Sundae and homemade milk shakes . . . and probably some non-dairy stuff somewhere, too. This is also the fair where I found an artist selling watercolors of all three Kennedy brothers. Total win!

Must See:  The aforementioned agricultural barn isn’t just about the Cabot cheese. They have apple slices and honey samples, and exhibits with bugs and bears and fisher cats (all dead). You’ll want to hold a fuzzy baby chick (not dead) and feel like a kid again.

You Can Skip: The portapotties. There are real bathrooms with fancy running water and everything across from the Better Living barn.

The good news is that fair season is drawing to a close soon. I do love a nice Kennedy watercolor and properly groomed Holsteins, but after a while, enough is enough. My waistline can’t take much more.

I do a lot of events. Conventions, fairs, craft shows . . . you never know when my smiling face is going to pop up from behind a table. Over the years, I’ve found that some fans are wonderful, and some of them are maybe not so much. Want to know the “dos and don’ts “ for meeting an author? Here they are:

• DO feel free to talk about your favorite books. Writers love to read. Some of my favorite conversations have started with “So, what are you reading right now?”
• DON’T feel free to trash famous authors on the sole premise that they’re successful.  If you don’t like James Patterson’s writing, that’s fine, and a valid opinion (though I’d encourage you to read Kiss the Girls). If you don’t like James Patterson because he’s one of the world's best-selling authors yet hires writing partners because he really doesn’t need to work hard anymore, okay, you don’t like James Patterson, the man. But please don’t go off on a diatribe about how Patterson’s writing sucks because he hires writing partners. Learn to hate correctly, I always say.
• DO tell an author that you liked their book. That’s always wonderful to hear. I also encourage you to leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads.
•  DON’T tell an author that you like their boobs. That’s inappropriate.
  

• DO feel free to ask for a signature, a hug, or a photo with your favorite author. That’s quite flattering, and many of us are happy to do it.
• DON’T go in for a hug:
  

1.   without asking;
   
2.  when you’re sweating like a runner wearing a parka who just did the Boston Marathon in August and smell like a rotting whale carcass;
   
3.    and do the reach-around to cop a feel.
   

• DO ask the author what their book is about and the intended audience. If you’re looking for a book for your pre-teen, I don’t want to sell you a copy of Ordinary Boy. You’ll be angry that the content is too old for them and inappropriate, and I’ll lose a potential returning reader. But beware: there are some unscrupulous writers out there who will lie to you just to get the sale. If they’re coming across as a snake-oil salesman, don’t trust them.
• DON’T tell an author what they should’ve written or done with the plot/characters instead. A lot of blood, sweat, tears, editing, and revisions happened before you read the final book. Telling us how you would’ve done it instead is insulting and demoralizing.
• DO stop and chat for a few minutes . . . if there isn’t a line. My favorite things to talk about are writing, editing, and reading. I have a few (okay, two) close friends that I originally met when they stopped to talk at an event.
• DON’T ask for a phone number, home address, or a date when you meet us. That is creepy and stalkerish, and the answer will always be no.
  

There you have it. I think I’ve covered everything—wait, another “don’t” is don’t look down my top (or if you are, don’t be so stinking obvious about it). There. That’s everything. Feel free to print out this list and carry it around with you so you’ll be fully prepared for your next author encounter.