So William and I were hanging out with Chewbacca last Saturday at the Southern Festival of Books...
Why was Chewbacca at a book fair, you ask? Presumably in honor of some guy who has written a series of Star Wars novels.
I'm sort of feeling bad for all the authors at the festival now. They slave and slave over their books for years, and yet at the big event that ostensibly celebrates them and their work, everyone wants to have their picture taken with Chewbacca. And not even the (gasp!) real Chewbacca, but some sweaty, undoubtedly underpaid guy on stilts in a mangy furry costume (er yes, not radically different from the real guy who played Chewbacca--a sweaty guy on stilts in a mangy furry costume). And his arms were noticeably too short. (Seriously, look at the picture.)
Even me, a writer myownself. I made my toddler son have his picture taken with me and fake Chewbacca.
But man, how often do you get to have your picture taken with Chewbacca?
(And for what it's worth, we also took William's picture with Clifford the Big Red Dog and the Berenstein Bears. You know, the real literary types.)