So I’m sitting here at my kitchen table, about 20 minutes removed from entering a Barnes & Noble and purchasing “Gunslinger.”
Yes, I bought my own book.
Stop laughing. Seriously, stop laughing. Unless you’re an author. Because, in that case, you’ve surely plunked down change for your own book, too. And it’s certainly not in order to have a copy. No, one buys his own book for multiple reasons:
• A. Because it makes the whole thing official: Paying for your book in an actual store means your book is available in an actual store. That’s some deep shit right there.
• 2. Ego: It feels great walk into a store and ask the information desk clerk whether they have this book called, um, “Gunslinger”—I think. By … “Jeff … um … Jeff Pearlman. Yes, Jeff Pearlman.” They guide you around, find the book, hand it to you. You’re the man.
• 3. Self-Denial: A small part of me thinks that single purchase might get me on the New York Times list. Unlikely. But one never knows, right?
Anyhow, I bought the book; paid full price.
Now I’m official.
