Buzzy

I'm noticing that my next novel, The F-It List, is getting some pretty great reviews and attention around the internet (the web? What are we supposed to call it these days?). I guess. I mean, it feels silly to even type that statement. Silly for two reasons: 1) I feel like an asshole telling you that I'm looking for bits on my own books, and 2) it's not like it means anything. That sounded blucky and complainy, but that's not what I meant [I have used the word MEAN way too many times already in this blog post]. Seeing as The F-It List is my fifth novel, it's very hard to get jazzed about the possibility of having a real "hit" anymore. Like, a real hit, where it's on bestseller lists and people are fighting over the movie rights and I make enough money from it to go on a vacation without fear of not having money to buy a new refrigerator if we someday need one (did I just jinx my refrigerator?). It's fun to think about, though, that possibility. Because, aside from refrigerators, I like to buy stupid things without guilt. Such as these three shirts that I just HAD to buy for my kids (now that I have two kids, I look at clothes with longevity, you see):

I am laughing heartily at myself that these are my impulse buys, although I am a little disappointed in the Mr. Rogers one. That's not as funny as the other two. Damn, that Mr. T one gets me every time. Imagine all of the stupid t-shirts my kids could own if The F-It List hits it big! Because that's what important as an author: whether or not your book makes enough money to keep your kids rolling in ridiculous t-shirts.