I knew the minute I wrote the very first word of the very first sentence of The Lost Girl that I’d be penning something controversial. It was still warm from the presses when I had my first booksigning. And I knew exactly what to say when they asked, “What’s this?”

“This is the first book of my new series, Fortune Tellers Club. It’s about three girls who use an Ouija board, tarot cards and other forms of divination to solve mysteries.” When they dropped the book as though it had just burst into flames, I took note.

But a lesson was learned. “Ouija board” was obviously a hot-button word. No more Ouija board talk in my pitch. Next, I’d take a different approach. “This is the first book of the Fortune Tellers Club series, about three girls who use tarot cards and other forms of divination to solve mysteries.” Yet again, my book singed fingers, as tarot cards were perceived as tools of the devil. The new lesson learned was that tarot cards were also a hot-button topic.

I dwindled my pitch down, rearranged it, turned it catawampus and pretty much did everything in my power to avoid those “no-no” words. Today I will happily invite you to take a look at my series for 8–12 year-olds about three girls who use their psychic abilities to solve mysteries. That’s not too far from the truth, and it does sell a lot more books. But I’ll never in this lifetime understand semantics. How can two words that basically mean the same thing be good or bad?

One thing I have learned is that the best word to use is “psychic.” If people are using their gift to help the police, they can’t possibly be worshipping Satan … right?

So after more than two years of signings, I’ve developed a feel for what will encourage grown ups to buy my series for their children. (Of course, I don’t have to worry about all this when kids approach me; they aren’t yet old enough to have acquired the same prejudices as their parents.)

Starting out, I didn’t approach schools. I’d worked in a school library for several years and already knew the headaches librarians faced with well-meaning parents who wanted to protect every single child in the world from a particular book they had deemed “evil.” But bookstores are different. I should be able to sign in most every bookstore, especially the chains.

Yet another rude awakening befell me. Right off, the customer relations manager (CRM) of the Books-A-Million in my area said no. Why? “This community is made up of old farmers. They’d be offended to walk in and see your books displayed.” I didn’t bother to remind her that this community of old farmers had the largest mall in the state. She should’ve already known that, considering her bookstore sat smack in the middle of it.

However I did get booked at a Barnes and Noble just outside Dallas. I packed my things and headed up there, even though I was suffering from an upper respiratory infection that felt just one cough away from SARS. I had a duty to fulfill and books to sell, so at my own expense, I went. I was there only 45 minutes when the CRM approached. “It’s slow today. Maybe you should go ahead and pack it up.”

“Why?”

“The truth is, we’re having too many complaints.” I was a little woozy, but I hadn’t coughed on anyone, and I’d already sold five books.

“Complaints?”

“Yes. Your books and signing table are offending too many people. And to be honest, as a Christian, I wouldn’t buy your books for my grandchildren.” Did I ask her to be honest?

I packed it up. Not because I felt bullied, but because I felt ill.

So getting stores to welcome me hasn’t been easy either, but there is another alternative — those wonderful book and author festivals where the author pays a fee to lease a booth. If I’m paying they won’t deny me, and I can sign my books until writer’s cramp has me crying, “Uncle!”

It happens that recently I learned about an upcoming book festival that sounded perfect. I emailed the person in charge, asking the fee. No answer. I talked to another author who received an answer back that same day, and she relayed the info. The next day one of the invited speakers of this event emailed me to say that she also asked about table fees, and dropped my name in the process. The librarian in charge told her that one of the sponsors of this particular event works for a local Christian academy. She looked at my website and saw that my picture had been on the cover of a magazine that advocated witchcraft. They didn’t want to take a chance of causing any controversy in their community. How sweet of them. Again, one or two people who’ve appointed themselves the voice of everyone else.

That magazine, of course, was the Sept/Oct issue of Llewellyn’s New Worlds of Mind & Spirit. And although the content about me had nothing to do with witchcraft, this was enough to send these people into “Orange Alert” mode. I suddenly felt like a terrorist.

So what’s an author to do when she’s shunned, shamed and shut out? She writes a book, of course. The Burning Pendulum is that book. Juniper (the founder of the Fortune Tellers Club) uses divination as part of a school book report, and need I say it? All hell breaks loose.

In all fairness though, I have to say that the incidences of being spurned, spat on and preached to are the minority. Plenty of bookstores have welcomed me with open arms. So have some schools. But the best embrace I’ve had is from the many kids out there who read my books and thirst for more.