It’s been a month since the release of “The Hard-Boiled Detective 1” in paperback and ebook. Big dreams. High hopes. Low expectations. Call me a romantic realist. Sure, I can fantasize, but I don’t get much fooled when it comes to practical matters. Maybe that’s why so many pleasant surprises keep popping up.
First off, when I approached authors and local celebs for blurbs, I didn’t know what I’d get. But I figured to crap out big time. Instead, I came across more graciousness and generosity than you find on the red carpet at Oscar time. Of course there was one Chicago hotshot who misread my query and looked at me all sideways and suspicious. Then there’s the big mucky-muck author who never replied at all. But they don’t know me from dirt and don’t owe me a damned thing. What got me were the eight gentlemen, and I mean “gentlemen,” who tossed me some of the most terrific book blurbs I could’ve hoped for. A couple just plain over the top. And then there are those who took a pass, but fell all over themselves doing so, apologizing and offering deep regret for not being available at the time. They’re apologizing to me? What a bunch of sweethearts.
Last week I walked into a local bookstore for a scheduled reading. The owner had taken a couple copies of my volume on consignment and told me he’d already sold one. Number-wise, one is next to nothing. But the point here is that there’s no reason for even one to sell. I’m just another unknown in the expanding wasteland of the self-published. I couldn’t of been more surprised, or more delighted.
I’ll also note this one for what I consider sheer lunacy. Would you believe that since the book release I’ve been approached for a book blurb? Not once, but twice? I feel complimented like Groucho when he said he didn’t want to belong to any club that would accept him as a member.
Crazy times. Crazy business. Plugging along, all innocent-like, and the unexpected crops up to slap another smile on your kisser. Maybe it’s always been like this. Maybe it’ll always be like this. Sure.