Rowdy Ladies: Signing books and having the time of our lives

Me at a booksigning, laughing, getting rowdy. Observe the man in the background, trying desperately to keep his mind on what he's doing despite the commotion.

by Mary Margret Daughtridge

I had another blog on the subject of humor all written, but this was too good a story not to share.

I don't have a group shot of us but picture a group of women, all shall we say post-mature, but only one whose hair has been allowed to gray. Pictured are the publisher of a monthly wellness newspaper, a physician, the owner of a car dealership, a neurofeedback therapist, and me, a novelist.

One time I arrived late at the upscale restaurant where I was meeting them for dinner. “You made it! Did you have any trouble finding us?” they wanted to know as they scooted over to make room for me at the table in the large dining room.

“Not a bit." I shook open my napkin. "When I got here, I realized I didn’t know what name the reservation was in, and I couldn’t think of how to describe you, so I just asked the hostess, ‘Have you got a table with a bunch of rowdy ladies at it?’ She led me straight to y’all.”

They all laughed. Rowdily. Rowdy ladies we are, and Rowdy Ladies we dubbed ourselves.

Singly we sometimes behave ourselves, but together we are not quiet. We went to the opening of “Mama Mia.” At the end as the credits rolled, we led the audience in a sing-along. Having the time of our lives!

They think having a writer of sexy novels in the group is the coolest thing. I often try out ideas for sex scenes on them—these women blush at nothing—but I also depend on their expertise in more mundane areas.

Before I ever wrote the first word, they helped me hammer out the premise of SEALed with a Ring, and they each were resources I could take various scenarios to and ask, “Could this really happen this way?”

I couldn’t have written it without their help. I thanked them all by name in the acknowledgements for SEALed with a Ring. In particular I thanked Elva, a larger than life, black-haired, buxom beauty. It’s her knowledge of how to run a car dealership that fleshes out the character of the heroine, JJ.

The Rowdy Ladies get together for dinner every couple of months, and I saw them last Saturday night.

After we were served, Elva spoke up. “Oh Mary Margret, I showed my girlfriend where my name was in

your book. She was so excited she went out and bought twenty-one copies. She bought up every one around here and had to go all the way to Roanoke to find the rest.”

Wow, I’m thinking, twenty-one copies. What a salesperson Elva is! She must have convinced her friend the book is something special.

“Why twenty-one exactly?” Julie the newspaper publisher—who thinks in terms of circulation— asked.

“She’s going to give them to her friends as presents…” Elva inserted her trademark belly laugh “…and she wanted me to sign them.”

“Seriously? You mean, she wanted you to autograph them?”

“Yep.” Grinning, Elva acknowledged the chuckles around the table, and then went on. “I thought to myself, if this is my fifteen minutes of fame, I'm going for it. So I did it. I signed them all!”

Much as I love a bon mot, much as I enjoy witty ripostes, this is the kind of humor I like best. The kind based on good times, good friends, and a rich appreciation of character.

Probably not the kind that will make you laugh out loud, or laugh long. But hopefully the kind that will bring a smile to your face. A smile that lingers, a smile that sweetens the rest of your day.

So what are you doing, who are you with, when you're having the time of your life?