I am finally a published author. Well, I’ve been a published author, ever since that first poem appeared in the fourth grade newsletter. What I meant was I have finally published my first book to Kindle and Nook (insert shameless plug for book sales…here). And I’m very proud to say that I sold my first copy within an hour of publication. To my mother.
And that is precisely how I always envisioned my writing career going. I actually called my mom after my book was bought again, just to make sure she didn’t accidentally buy it again while having trouble getting her e-reader to work.
It’s not that I think I’m necessarily a bad writer, but there’s just so much good content to read out there. When the site stats to this blog show up and I see that seven people actually read it, my mind starts to tabulate how much it would cost me to mail those seven people each a copy of To Kill A Mockingbird, just to give them something good to read.
Of course, there’s just as much crap out there, if not more. Apparently someone named Snooki has written a book and I cannot fathom that reading her book would kill fewer brain cells than inhaling gasoline straight out of the pump. Paris Hilton has written a book AND a sequel, which I’m pretty sure is mentioned in Revelation as one of the signs of the apocalypse.
My book, however, has one thing going for it that many other works of completely crap don’t have: it’s incredibly short. It’s completely worth the read because maxes out at just over 30,000 words, making it shorter than most television scripts. And that’s for the hour-long shows. If reading it is root-canal-quality agony, at least it will be over far sooner than the aforementioned root canal unless you really struggle with reading. Besides, my mom highly recommends it.