May 24, 2006

When he sent me the contract to sign, my publisher added in his e-mail, “This contract is contingent upon your being a willing participant in the promotion and publicity.” What’s that about? I wondered. I imagined loners in skyscrapers writing books, furtively opening the door to the hallway when they were done, stuffing their book down the U.S. Post Office chute and scurrying back to their rooms to write more. Someone at a kitchen table in the backwoods of Maine, a pencil in one hand and a bottle of Early Times in the other, finishing up a few pages and staggering down to the end of the driveway, forcing the pages into the mailbox for the postman. As for me, my publisher could have made our contract contingent upon my washing his windows once a week - I would have signed just about anything. Getting my book, my first book, published was the thing.