HUMOR
My New Book is Coming Out, and You Must be so Envious
Bend a knee and listen to me pontificate
Jim, a friend of mine since college, sidled up beside me and clinked glasses.
“A new book coming out. Big night for you,” he said.
“It’s not about me.” It’s all about me. Everyone here will fawn over me before the night is over. They’ll all want autographed copies to display on their bookshelves. Not everyone knows a published author. Not everyone is a published author.
Pat on back
After tonight, they will casually drop my name into conversations to impress their friends.
“Who’s your publisher?”
“Self-published, actually. Those old publishing houses are relics of the past. No astute writer uses them anymore.”
“Is that right?”
Of course it was right.
I didn’t bother with a response. I simply sipped my scotch with the confidence I deserved and scanned the crowd.
Was Carol giving me the come hither look? How naughty, with her husband standing nearby and my wife in the kitchen. She must know that authors are a rowdy and unruly bunch.
I was spewing enough masculinity to make Hemingway jealous.
In a few weeks, my book will become a bestseller, and I’ll be doing interviews on Oprah. Movie studios will beg me for the rights. We’ll move to a coveted zip code, enroll our kids in the most prestigious schools, and buy some obnoxiously expensive and impractical cars.
We’ll swap out our lawn every six months so it’s always green. We’ll grow lemons, limes, and avocados in our backyard. I’ll have a writing studio where I can work without distraction and smoke cigars with directors and actors as we finesse the script.
I’ll have to buy a cardigan with leather patches on the elbows and a yacht. Where does one purchase either of those items?
“Hey,” Jim said. “Your wife’s trying to get your attention.”
“Honey, could you please light the candles? It is your daughter’s birthday party after all.”
