The Famous Author was supposed to send me a mystery book or two last night, examples of crime fiction that I could talk about here and perhaps recommend to you. He didn't. He says the world is coming to an end, everybody's dying, and so why the hell bother?
Yikes. Understand, I am used to TFA's occasional bouts of depression. He's getting old. Our book seems to have hit a few roadblocks on the road to bestsellerdom. And for the last six months, he's spent too much time trying to promote himself instead of writing more funny adventures for me.
It's very depressing trying to sell books. Too much competition. Our publisher is small, and looked down upon, even by some of our friends. Few mystery readers will even TRY a debut author. Thus, TFA has been out there spitting into the wind when he could have been locked in a room alone, making himself laugh and having fun.
But last night, he seemed particularly morose, and I'm worried about the old geezer. Let's get him on the phone and find out what's happening.
"Hey, TFA. What's the haps?"
"Doom and gloom, Austin. Everything is turning to crap."
"Everything? Could you be a bit more specific, Ace?"
"Okay. How about this: My best and oldest friend was just diagnosed with colon cancer. My big California tour has turned into three stops--two in San Diego and one in Los Angeles. My PR lady couldn't find one bookstore in San Francisco who would have me."
"Well...uh, no. Looks like my sales ranking on Amazon is about to hit seven figures on BOTH editions for the first time since February. It's over, pal. We're dead."
"Dead? But...but we have a new book coming out in February. Austin Carr--I mean, me--I'm still alive, aren't I?"
"Sort of. But you aren't going to be doing much until February 15th."
"Maybe from your miserable perspective. But I've got a blog to write, new adventures coming in book three, not to mention more trips to the beach, hot tips to play, and redheads to seduce."
"Wake up, Carr. You're a fictional character. This is all make believe."
"Maybe to you, geezer breath. But not to me. I'm alive. I'm alive. I have a voice. I have things to say."
"You're dead as a door knob, sucker. Wake up and look around!"
Then he hung up on me.
Wow. The old man is definitely losing it. BIG NUMBERS is only our first book. Nobody got a series rolling fast on the first book. Not even Janet Evanovich, Robert Crais, or Dennis Lehane. It takes time, maybe four or five books before you have enough fans to get some real attention. Heck if I'm giving up.
I think maybe TFA needs a few shots of Herradura. In fact, that's a great idea. I'm throwing a party August 25. We'll call it Cinco de Mayo, the Summer Edition, and you're all invited. Check in here with your RSVPs.
Let's try to cheer the old geezer up.