So I self-published at Lulu, although I’ve been told it’s weird. You know why I’ve been told it’s weird? Because it is freakin’ weird! The printed books are available at Lulu (of course), Amazon, and Tower Books, but not at Barnes & Nobel (although now you could have them available at B&N — for a fee, of course!) and their eBooks are available for Lulu, iBookstore, and B&N Nook, but not for Amazon Kindle. Confused yet? Perfect! The first edition of my printed book came out in September of last year and I’ve finally gotten around to getting the eBook out this spring. Had to pass a few formatting hurdles to get that damn thing accepted as an eBook but I did it! After I finally gave up and paid Lulu about $300 to do it for me, of course. Well, first I tried to save some money and had $45 man do it, but that turned out to be worthless. (Side note: I should really set up $45 man with Dictionary Lady).
So I go in to the local B&N I frequent, full of swag, like ooh, I made it big time cuz I’m in eBook format now! March up to the Nook counter to see Barnes & (Not) Noble Guy who
harassed solicited always greeted me nicely until I cracked down and bought the damn thing and am like “Excuse me, isn’t this book, Order of The Dimensions available on Nook now?” He looks it up and sure enough there it is! And now I’m feeling totally like hot stuff and say. “Oh, it’s written by Irene Helenowski. Do you know who that is?” And he’s like “No.” So just like that, my ego disappeared into a black dimension, crushed and destroyed, never to be seen again. I guess I shouldn’t expect him to know who I am (just yet), even though I do frequent that store every single week (and did I mention how he coerced me to getting the Nook?), but just the way he said it. As if someone just asked him if he takes creamer in his coffee. As if someone asked him paper or plastic. As if … whatever.
I guess I should just get over it. But if I ever see him on Hollywood Boulevard, whilst driving my Porsche, getting pummeled to oblivion by a bunch of hooligans mugging him and he cries out “Irene Helenowski! Remember me? Please help!”, I’ll just say “No.” and then laugh and laugh and laugh as I drive away. Alright, so I would go back after remembering the parable of The Good Samaritan (damn Sunday school — yes, I know, the irony), take out the crow bar and chloroform from my trunk (What? Doesn’t everyone carry chloroform in the trunk these days?), and help the chump out. But I’d also do this is we were to pass by an ice pond later. And yes, I believe that just happening to come across an ice pond in the middle of Hollywood Boulevard is way more likely than me being able to afford a Porsche from my book sales, so yes, this makes a lot of sense.