I Can Be Yours For Nine Dollars.

OK, so the chapbook is going to the printers by the fifteenth of this month. This means that until the fifteenth of this month I will be under the desk, chewing on a USB cable while simultaneously smoking eight packs of cigarettes, mainlining espresso and Diet Coke into my carotid artery, and saying things like "FuckshitDAMN!"

Woe to my computer if it even thinks about fucking around this week. I will beat it with a soup ladle and kick it down the stairs.

Anyway, pre-sales for the Little Book That Could have started, and if you would like to buy one or five or fifty thousand then you can click on this link right here and rest assured that you will have one or five or fifty thousand in your hot little hands sometime during the end of June.

They cost nine dollars, which is a lot, but we're talking about an independent publisher that doesn't have a vault full of capitalist pig money from which to draw, so there you go. If it's too much, don't buy it, just call my son, and he will read it to you over the phone, minus the swearing, which shouldn't take long.

Some of the book is stuff from this site, and some of it is stuff that isn't from the site. I've added a lot of little childhood stories and whatnot that I never posted here, as well as a few other things.

If you would like to be my best friend and link to the publisher's page or this entry (http://trancejen.diaryland.com/booksale.html), you are more than welcome to do so. You can even copy and use this little button, if you'd like:

If you know anyone who will sell it in a shop, buy large quantities, or use several thousand to insulate an attic, feel free to contact me, as this would send me into a state of ecstacy, because then I could buy that phat platinum dollar sign that I've had my eye on for so long. Bling bling, baby.

The book ain't Hemingway, and I'm under no false impression that I am a Great Writer who is going to Change The World with my Unique and Astonishingly Amazing, Funky-Fresh, Hip take on life, people, problems, and ISSUES (all of which require the Hip Use of Capital Letters, Of Course), but hopefully someone will get a chuckle out of it, and hopefully I will make a buck or three, and hopefully readers and writer will both be happy.

I am not Dave Eggers nor Sedaris nor Barry nor any sort of Dave at all, and I don't think I talk about my period once, which takes me out of the running for "chick lit"; but I do have issues up the yin-yang, so perhaps I fit nicely into that niche of Fucked-Up Bitches like Marya Hornbacher and Elizabeth Wurtzel and what have you. Who knows.

I'm really kind of excited to see this take shape, because it feels good to create something concrete. Watching DC and my friends get excited and sort of root for me is really nice, too, because there hasn't been much to root for in the past few years, and me accomplishing something is good. My parents are still of the mind that this whole thing is utter shit, a blah-blah sort of thing just like this website, which of course is something asanine that I waste time with, but the hell with them, this is the office as well as the smoking lounge, the bar, and the back porch.

Anyway, I am excited. There is still work to be done, which means I cannot go and buy and devour the new David Sedaris like I want to, but hopefully soon I will.

I am not going to rattle on and on incessantly about the book because that would get annoying really really quickly, so occasionally I might just link to this entry, and buy it if you can and want to, and don't if you can't or just plain would rather not. If you do I'll be thrilled, and if you don't, I'll still let you play with my Legos. No big.

Anyway, I am going to go proofread and proofread and proofread some more, and then I am going to go watch the J-Man's T-ball game and proofread some more.

Presales. Yay. I am preselling.

Life is weird.

2:52 p.m. - 2004-06-07
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