December 10th, 2007 Riley
Okay, so I am getting mad hits on Dismantle My Bed! I haven’t, however, sold a single book. I’m not sure why this is. I think it’s a clever attempt at sales. I think my book is worth reading. I guess the public disagrees with me. Then again, the sect of the public that both knows how to read and has extra money for book-buying is pretty small. We can thank George W. for that. The poverty, that is. Not the illiteracy. While I would like to blame him for all of the woes in this country, I can’t give him that one. Though the fact that the president himself is illiterate doesn’t really set a good example, now does it?
So anyway, in an effort to move some books, before I throw an exciting and ground-charring bonfire with them, the prices have dropped substantially. $4.99 will buy you a book and I’ll pay for shipping. That’s right, I’m just that desperate. I’m like Wal-Mart, only without the excess of people in sweat pants.
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December 6th, 2007 Riley
I heard a sad story the other day. The story was about an older lady, a grandmother almost eighty years old, who saved for ten years to go on a cruise. When she got to the airport, she was delayed due to airline error. What a shock! So, she missed her cruise ship. She contacted the cruise line, Princess Cruises for those of you who want to revolt, and they said that it wasn’t their problem and they weren’t going to refund her money.
So, she contacted The Consumerist and they picked it up, along with several other news and review type sites. These sites got behind her so that she could fight the company. But before she had to fight for her refund, numerous strangers sent her money, more than she needed to take another cruise.
I think this is a good thing. I felt bad for the old lady when the company screwed her, and I hope she chooses another cruise line this time. However, I also find this intriguing. I have noticed that, whenever someone says they are in debt or have been screwed over by a company, people send them money without delay. However, while the number of visitors to my Dismantle My Bed site has increased substantially over the last few months, I haven’t sold a single book. Not one single book. I wonder why this could be.
I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that “I sent some money to an old lady so that she could go on a cruise,” makes people sound more saint-like than “I bought a book online.”
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November 13th, 2007 Riley
I love writing, I really do. Yet, when it comes time to write something non-fiction, something like a press release for Dismantle My Bed! for instance, you wouldn’t know it. I clam right up. I’m like, “Write? Write what?” and then I sit there until I feel the blood vessels popping open in my forehead. What is it about reality that gives me such a hard time? I guess it could be this.
Reality… don’t really like it. Why would I write about anything that leaves such a bad taste in my mouth? But then, I would like to believe that reality has some sort of redeeming quality, so I must strive to create a reality that I find more appetizing. In honor of that, must write press release.
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November 7th, 2007 Riley
I am in a sea of debt and creative failures, struggling to stay afloat with only a spark of hope and a strong breast stroke. I also have a novel available for sale that I do fear people have forgotten about. It’s much loved by many of those who have read it, but that sect of society is small and unable to take over the world. I would like to see the lovers of my book swell to outlandish proportions, get the spirit and build temples to Cinderella. Okay, not really, but I would like to send these books out into the world by the end of the year. Come on, my loves, it’s a good read, I promise.
Go here and Dismantle My Bed!
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September 1st, 2007 Riley
So I randomly sold a book this week on Amazon, which prompted them to order two more books. I love when that happens. The rush of adrenaline. The genuine pleasure of feeling discovered. The financial joy of making almost seven bucks. Ah, the ecstasy. And most of all, the complete and utter shock and confusion over how it happened. After every book sale, I spend at least an hour internally and externally debating how someone found out about the book when I have been a lazy ass clown and haven’t completed my Dismantle My Bed site or done any kind of press release. Here are some theories about how it happens…
1. You know those dreams where you are with people that you have never seen before, but yet, in the dream world, you know you know them. And sometimes, they will actually have names, like you will hear someone say “Come on Matt,” and you think “So, you are Matt. How do I know you Matt? I know I know you. Hm.” Well, maybe I was in someone’s dream like that, and they said “Hey Riley, what’s going to happen to Cinderella in the sequel?” And the next morning, they got up and googled “Cinderella + Riley”, got this, and thought “Crickets and Croquet, she does exist,” and then curiosity just got the best of them and cost them $14.95 plus shipping.
2. They ran into a feminist book buyer from Oakland. I do have quite the fan base there. It’s my proudest zip code, the only five digits where I am not an unknown loser-cakes. I am liked by those who use hemp tampons and spell women with a ‘y’. They are my people in Oakland, and I hear they can be mighty persuasive.
3. One of my co-workers realized what a dumb kid I really am, and how much debt hangs over me like. It’s kind of like when you are walking in NYC during a rainstorm and someone with a big golf umbrella is keeping pace right beside, so all of the rain runs off of the edge of their umbrella and right onto the top of your head. This is an even greater risk when you are five-three and apparently invisible. Anyway, maybe one of my older, wiser co-workers realized I’m in the shit, and took pity on my poor shit-living soul.
4. Someone desperate for good karma asked a fortune teller what to do, and the fortune teller said “Buy this girl’s book. When the pathetic help the pathetic, miracles happen.” For them, not for me.
5. I somehow created my own good karma by putting positive energy out into the world. In my sleep.
6. Someone has slight-rhyme dyslexia. They were really searching for a “grimy ashtray.”
7. A member of the Disney inquisitorial squad who is looking over my application for the coming fellowship year got curious, looked me up, and decided to buy my book for one of the following reasons:
a) I am so close to securing a fellowship that they wanted to know more about me and my fabulously talented self.
b) I am so far from securing a fellowship that they wanted to read something else I had written so they could continue their out-of-context laughter at my expense.
c) They noticed that we have used some of the same characters in our works and my book is intended to be ‘Exhibit C’ at my coming trial when they sue me.
d) They were thinking about a direct-to-video hybrid movie where Belle and Jasmine are stranded on a desert island, sing sweeping torch songs by Phil Collins, and finally discover the meaning of life, love, friendship, and what lies beneath each other’s clothes.
Mm, that does tempt. I call upon the fan fiction writers whose works I have enjoyed to please take this idea and run with it.
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May 10th, 2007 Riley
I have crafted a book that is worthy of purchase, honestly, and yet here I sit with two thousand of them playing bed frame to a mattress in my apartment. In an effort to try to force the books from their, obviously too comfy, home, I’ve made a game of it, because, while no one actually seems to read anymore, everyone loves a good lottery. I didn’t even make this up. If you don’t believe me, check it out here.
And now, the top five reasons that you should play the game and help me dismantle my bed.
1. Other means I have come up with to rid myself of the books are considerably more dangerous. I’ve contemplated an axe, to hack them into tiny little bits, with which I can then pack boxes or dip them into food coloring to make Easter grass, but I’m afraid that once I get the axe in my hands, I’ll start thinking too much. Like I’ll think about how much the postal service irks me, or how many times PayPal has done a charge back without investigation, or about the ex-friend whose face I pushed into the snow back in college. Then, what if I get giddy and leave the house? It could all go by way of Lizzie Borden much too quickly. I also thought about fire, collecting a check, and thanking the insurance company, but it’s always made me fearful. I can’t even light a match, and using one of those long-stemmed lighter things seems kind of flaky. If I’m going to get into arson, I’m going to have to get my fingers burned. But I’m not quite ready for that yet.
2. You get something in return. No, not literary excellence. Girl-girl action. Okay, I’m just going to write it here, right out in the open. Cinderella and Rapunzel are, in fact, a couple. I was trying to keep it on the down low to trick Bible-thumpers into buying it for their impressionable young daughters, but that hasn’t happened, so I may as well drop the charade. Cinderella and Rapunzel, they really like each other. Sometimes they even like each other with tongues. Haven’t you always fantasized about two fairy tale chics getting it on? Well I have. Often. And with frantic hand movements.
3. Profit-sharing. Not for everyone. Only for the winners. Just like in life, losers get nothing but the crappiest job and the smallest piece of steak. However, unlike in life, I won’t determine your loser status based upon your height, weight, sex, race, or your balding head. Everyone has an equal opportunity to be a winner ‘round these parts. All you have to have is better timing than approximately 1920 other people. See how you can become a winner here.
4. Two words. Norco. Togo. This makes zero sense to many of you now, but if you read the book, it will. And then you will rejoice and be glad.
5. If you do nothing, the world will end. I’ve been in deep deliberations with Jerry Falwell, Al Gore, M. Night Shyamalan, and Captain Kirk. Apparently, my recent string of failures has started an apocalyptic chain of events that culminates in Jesus Christ himself riding back to Earth in a spaceship, beaming up all the Scotties, and then waylaying the planet with one hell of an ice age. And just when you think it’s all over, there will be a twist ending you won’t believe.
This post is earmarked for the ProBlogger Group Writing Project, so don’t anyone else be trying to steal it for their own writing projects, or for an overdue English essay. It probably won’t get you a passing grade anyway, and a finicky, religious teacher might object to including a shout-out to Jesus and a vague reference to masturbation in the same paper.
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