Saturday was Placer Pride.
I love Placer Pride, because it takes place in Roseville in Placer County, a place that’s more red than blue – or more conservative than progressive, for my readers outside of the United States.
Placer County also has a large, underserved LGBTQ+ community – underserved until recently, when a group of folks out there got together a few years back to start a local Pride Festival, with the aim of eventually opening an LGBTQ+ Center to serve the local queer folks.
The first year was small, but what it lacked in size it made up for in passion. Queer people families turned out in droves, thrilled to have a local event just for them, and especially eager to buy LGBTQ+ themed books.
Each year has gotten bigger and better, and this last year they finally realized their dream, opening up a physical center for lesbian, gay, bi, trans, non-binary, ace, aro, and intersex people, along with all the other wonderful flavors of queerdom.
Saturday dawned with beautiful weather – sunny, a high in the low eighties, and a (mostly) slight breeze that took the edge off of the afternoon heat. We opened optimistically, and the morning didn’t disappoint, with books flying off the table for the first few hours.
So what is this unicorn of which I speak?
I’m not sure if we coined the term or it came to us from someone else, but in this context, a unicorn is someone who asks to buy a copy of every book on the table.
I know. You probably think it’s a myth. That would never happen, right? Just like the unicorn, a mythical creature only gullible young virgins believe in.
But I’ve seen it. Three times.
Th first was a couple years back, at Davis Pride. Marco and I were taking a lunch break with Marvin and Eric (Marvin’s husband). When we amended back, we heard the shocking news from Grete and Bel… a woman had bought a copy of every book on the table to read for herself and then pass along to friends. I thanked the great spaghetti monster, and consoled myself with the fact that it happened once, and would probably never happen again.
Then last year, at WorldCon, in the last fifteen minutes before the Con closed, it happened again. I was alone at the booth, and a woman approached, looking over all the books, and then asked to buy a copy of every single one. Apparently she’s a known unicorn, a bit of a con legend.
She said she had a t-shirt she wanted to buy before closing, and I sent her off, assuring her that I would finish ringing the sale while she was gone.
And then I had a horrible thought. What if she doesn’t return?
I spent a nervous ten minutes madly ringing up books, and then there she was. The Great Spaghetti Monster didn’t let me down.
That one sale basically made the con for me.
Flash forward to yesterday. It was midafternoon, and sales and traffic had slowed way down when a couple approached the table. They looked over the books – honestly, I was in conversation with Marco about something and wasn’t really paying attention. Then they asked to buy a copy of every book on the table.
It turns out they were planning to help the new Placer LGBTQ+ Center to start a library, and had also bought all the books at the table next to us. What an amazing gesture, both as support for the center and for us as starving authors.
And so we had our third unicorn.
Beyond the thrill of such a large sale, it makes me happy that people still want to buy books. Unicorns are wonderful, but so is every other person who stops by one of our booths and talks to us about their passion for reading, and each one that purchases even a single book to take home themselves or to someone they love.
Kids out of college who are discovering reading again. Parents looking for representation for their trans kid. Straight mothers who love a little spicy MM romance on the side. Anyone for whom reading sparks joy.
You are all Unicorns, every single one.