Today, George R.R. Martin was in Ann Arbor, signing copies of "Feast for Crows." I'd picked it up fifteen minutes before the signing, and we ended up near the back of the line. A very, very long line. The signing started around 7; when we got up to get our books signed, the store was making its 10:45 closing announcements.
"Your hand must be tired," I said. "No," he responded cheerfully. "Well, maybe a little. But your feet must be more tired, standing all this time."
"Maybe a little," I agreed, "But I could read while I was waiting, so it wasn't so bad."
"Ah," he said, switching to my next book, "You've started the book already?"
"Yes. I have to say, though, as soon as I started reading about someone who seems nice and sweet and had never appeared in the books before, I knew that things weren't going to turn out well."
He chortled. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm evil."
"You are evil, but you shouldn't be sorry. I love it."
In any event, I'm impressed that he was so nice and gracious after so long a time signing.