For Those Who Think Being a Novelist is Glamorous

My brother Tod’s Fucktards of the Year" list includes this:

5. The Various Fucktards Who Scheduled Book Signings For Me In Their
Stores And Then, You Know, Forgot To Order My Books, Put Up Signs Or Advertise
My Event.

This should not be confused with the stores who simply had
distribution issues when my book went into a second printing and copies simply
were not available. That sort of thing happens when you’re wildly successful,
so, you know, how the cookie crumbles and all that. No, I mean the people who
actually booked events for me, confirmed them, confirmed that they had plenty of
books and promoted the event and that signs were "already up" and "the writing
group can’t wait for you to get to the store" and "I really loved your book,"
and who, actually, "Oh, gosh, I didn’t know you were coming. Did we speak?"

"Yes. Three times. Including yesterday."

"Well, I looked and all your books are out of print. Are you self
published or something?"

"No, all of my books are in print — in several printings, in fact —
and I just had a signing in your store across town and they had all of my books.
All of them."

"I don’t know what happened then."

I know what happened. You’re a fucktard.

Sadly, he isn’t making this stuff up. I was at one those signings. Okay, two of them.

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