Hey, remember when I wrote a book?
It was all kinds of fun. I selected choice essays from my blog. I enlisted the genius of my friend Pat Adriance to do some nifty cartoons. I got in contact with a publisher who made my dream a reality.
We had a book signing, we had the book available throughout our fair city. It was swell!
And hey, if you’re wondering what kind of crazy stupid money I raked in on this deal, well, here’s an email I got today from my publisher.
Yes, $60. Certain of my friends will be extremely happy to see that.
Now just to be clear, 41 copies reflects Amazon sales and not direct Wenty-to-human sales. I genuinely have no idea what those numbers are. And honestly, I don’t care. I didn’t make the book to make money. I did it because I enjoy writing, and I thought maybe people might enjoy reading my nonsense.
I should probably use my $60 in royalties to take my pals Dave and Kalin to supper, and buy a dozen roses for my financial advisor T.Q., who probably does know how many books we sold.
Anyway, I just wanted to close the door on this very rewarding chapter of my life. BUT FIRST!
I still have 17 copies of this thing. If you’re looking for the perfect Christmas gift for someone who knows how to read, well, visit me at the ol’ K-Cow. I will sell you a book. I’ll sign it even!