But I can't give it up. That's why I've emailed Trashionista, ModCloth's account on GoodReads.com, and was just in the shower thinking about penning a letter to Ellen about how she should start her own fancy-schmancy book club (only one that has fun books because, really, there's enough sadness and suffering in the world, we don't need to read about it for entertainment purposes, Oprah) and how she should include my book in that club because, hello, it was my idea for her to start one. I get grandfathered in for being a clever S.O.B. I've also taken to CreateSpace's forums for shameless plugs. For eff's sake, I even posted a link to it on my 20sb.net page and on the Chick Lit Lover's group there because I have no self control over it at this point. Seriously. I need a twelve-step program or hours vegging out in front of the TV watching Clueless and National Treasure while eating popcorn dipped in salsa. Don't give me that look, it's the most fucking delicious thing you will ever put in your mouth (that's what she said).
If nothing else, my hometown's newspaper might run a story on me. And that's something. Especially since Jerry Bruckheimer (yeah, the Pirates of the Caribbean one) lives nearby. Yes, Jerry Bruckheimer set up shop in a small town in Kentucky. Rich people are
Hey, it could happen. Try a little optimism. Also, try these Fiber One pop-tarts.
2 comments:
Jerry Bruckheimer? Holy crap. So when am I coming to visit you and stalk him?
You can hang out and stalk him anytime you want. We can make an adventure out of it where you track him down and then we act out movie ideas for him. That way we get the movie's royalties and the lead roles. :D
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