So I’ve now been in Wisconsin for three full days, which means, oh, 30 interviews and three signings.
I am starting to lose it.
Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely love the people of this state, and I’m truly honored by anyone taking the time to talk to me about Gunslinger, or someone plunking down money to buy a book or two. But, well, talking and talking and talking and talking and talking about the same subject, 10-to-30 times per day, for a solid 2 1/2 weeks definitely impacts the brain makeup. I am, by now, a Brett Favre zombie, talking up his boyhood in Mississppi, his time at Southern Miss, his rookie year in Atlanta as would a robot programed to utter the same works over and over and over again. I dream Favre, I eat Favre, I poop Favre, I walk Favre. It has become my life, because this is what one does when he promotes a sports book. He talks until people stop listening.
Tonight I was the featured guest at Green Bay’s Titletown Brewery, where—to my great surprise and shock—100 or so people packed a room to listen to, well, me. And here’s the thing: I know I’m not the one peddling books here. With Favre’s likeness on the cover, I could be named Adolph Hitler and folks would listen. Which is fine, because my name isn’t Adolph Hitler, and people are still listening.
Now, I need a nap …
