If you’re a big fan of I.B.S., you should try signing up for a book blog tour as a first time self-published author like I did. If I wasn’t already bald, my hair would have fallen out in anticipation of my first review. These days, Book Bloggers aren’t just talking about unicorns and hot sex, or even unicorns having hot sex, now they’re talking about degenerate ex drug addict bank robbers, they’re talking about me. It’s a damn shame that I thought that would be a good idea, but that’s what I paid for and here we are.
Still, I figure some readers are interested in case one day they aspire. Who isn’t just a little bit interested in eating that deep fried Twinkie at the Puyallup fair, even if it could eventually kill you. I know it’s not a perfect analogy, but I haven’t been firing on all cylinders for a while now, so it makes perfect sense to me.
I was gifted a kind and generous veteran Blogger right out of the gate who really loved my book. I was on top of the world, I couldn’t miss, that is until the next day. That’s the day I felt I should climb down into that giant hole of shame I had filled with money while writing my book. I now know not everyone is going to do back flips over my shenanigans. Day 2 Blogger was really missing an adventure by not being old enough to be kicked out of a bar, so she may not have been able to relate.
About a month ago I went to meet a new potential client for my construction company. To make a good impression I unknowingly stepped in two piles of dog shit (one for each shoe), and tracked it into her house onto the early 20th century Persian rug. Needless to say but I’ll say it anyway, didn’t get that job. The point is, she didn’t hate me, she just wasn’t fond of my shit. This blogger actually gave me a very thoughtful decent review based on her life experience, but it took the level head of my better half, (my wife), for me to see it. You mean I am not the sum of what’s on the bottom of my shoe?