I’m only blogging because I lost my twitter password during a computer malfunction and also because something that takes more than 140 characters to explain finally happened.
A friend of mine from middle school was over last night and we got a tad inebriated, as old middle schoolers are known to do from time to time. While she was checking her email, I decided to check mine and there was a letter from some nice person who somehow found my blog and wanted to know how she could get my books in Canada. So I told her to check amazon.com or iuniverse.com for “She’s Got Issues.” I don’t remember what else I wrote. I could have said, “I love you,” for all I know. So then the girl sends me another email saying she has a bookstore called Chapters and how much would it cost for her to buy my books directly from me. So I read the email a few times not quite getting it and then I read it to my middle school friend who is a big time business person, but like I said she wasn’t operating with a full deck cause of the inebriation I spoke of earlier.
So my friend decides to google Charters or Chapters, or whatever, and it says it’s the largest bookstore chain in the universe. So we start thinking, and we get the idea that somehow this person wants to buy my books directly from me for her largest chain of bookstores in the entire universe. But at the same time I’m thinking that the email is a set up to see if I would break the law and sell my books on my own instead of through my publisher. That’s how not normal I am. I really thought that. So she starts looking at my contract to see if I’m allowed to sell my books, even though I tell her I know I can’t, and then we decide that I’ll just have to buy thousands and thousands of copies of my own books so I can legally sell them to the girl who emailed me(most likely from one of the offices in her large bookstore chain.)
And then we had a few more drinks and continued to think of ways we could become billionaires off of my old books. But then Dan came home and read the email and explained that it was just a girl who wanted to buy one copy, to read, and that she was simply mentioning the name of her local bookstore to let me know they don’t carry my books.
So, as it turns out, I won’t be needing my own printing press (we were considering that possibility as well, as part of our plan to become billionaires), nor will I need to reread my contract so see if I can store and sell my own books en masse. I just need a couple of stamps.