Friday, August 9, 2013

Where we will all end up...

I'm where we are all going to end up. No, not in a pine box. In the bargain bin at Barnes & Noble.

Burbank, CA. Home to the movies. Home to all of us screenwriters, actors and other ne'er-do-wells working our day jobs. Trying to get a gig in the movie industry. God help us. I know she's listening.

Last December my book Riding the Hollywood Glacier 2 was on the Humor shelf at B & N. I proudly pointed out my book to family, friends and total strangers browsing through the store.

Yes, I accosted young and old, male and female, Jew and Gentile, sane and insane: anyone that had a pulse. I proudly pointed out my book. On the shelf. At Barnes & Noble. Months have passed.

The end of summer is here. After spending most of my movie-background extra paycheck on a double-double at In-N-Out Burgers, I head over to Barnes & Noble books.

Their gone. My books have vanished. Hopefully now beach-reads for some hot babes, with discerning taste in comedy writing. In my needy mind, or what's left of it, I imagine them knocking on my doorstep, with heaving breasts,clutching my book and demanding that I perform a Midnight-read to them in their boudoir. You get the picture. My fantasy turns to nightmare when I realize what has actually happened: I've been moved to the bargain bin. 

Soon, I'm on all fours. Searching in the bargain boxes, under the bargain tables. Of the five original books on the shelf, I find four copies of my book. They have large red "Half-Off" stickers glued over my face on the front cover. I'm crushed.

I try to picture that one missing book, is now on the beach at Santa Monica being read by one of those hot babes mentioned earlier. Or maybe amusing another babe, as she rides in her private jet to Paris and realizes that she has just found Mr. Right. Me.

A lady clerk, taps me on the shoulder, bringing me out of my reverie. Her look says two things: I can't claim squatter's rights at B & N Books and it would be a good idea to hit the bricks.

As I rise off the floor, I notice a couple of mystery writer and Best Selling author Michael Connelly's books, now also in the bargain bin. I spoke with him at a book signing at Vroman's Books  last Spring in Pasadena.

He was most cordial and autographed his latest book with a friendly note "Good luck and good writing." I suddenly didn't feel so badly. I guess we all eventually end up in the close-out bargain bin.
Even Michael Connelly.

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