My book, Showtime, comes out on Tuesday.
To repeat, it comes out Tuesday. My book. Showtime. This is the Amazon link. And, in case you missed it, this is the Amazon link. Right here. This one.
I’m joking. But only sort of. Writing a book is hard. It’s ceaseless hours of digging and prodding and calling and arranging and organizing and sweating. But it’s an endeavor that I feel 100-percent comfortable in doing. I’ve written six books, and while it’s not akin to riding a bicycle, it’s familiar.
Publicity, however, is a beast. Leigh Montville, one of the best of the best, once told me being an author is akin to living in a cave for two years, then emerging for two weeks of light before returning to the darkness. It’s a perfect analogy. Showtime (Amazon link right here) isn’t even out yet, and I’m squinting to guard my eyes from the light. I’m calling in every favor. I’m jumping at every media opportunity. I’m Tweeting nonstop. My website has been redesigned. You wanna have me on your radio show? Your podcast? Your neo-Nazi, anti-cookie, pro-Al Oliver transistor program? Um … OK. What time do I call in?
For better or for worse, this is a huge part of the process. Talking, talking, talking, talking—when you’re significantly more comfortable writing, writing, writing. You’re grateful for any opportunity; willing to go anywhere; delve into any topic. You wanna ask about John Rocker for the 987,533rd time? OK. You want me to drop some Young MC rhymes? No sweat. If you’re taking the time to talk Showtime, I’ll happily do whatever you ask.
I am Jeff Pearlman.
I am a book whore.
And, in case you missed it, here it is—again.
