I had an amazing weekend. It started on Friday with insane sales of Lost In Spain. I looked at the KDP (Kindle) sales graph at noon and it was selling better than hot cakes at a country fair where all the other cakes are cold and made out of mud and cat hair. By Friday night I had sold a couple hundred copies. I know that doesn’t seem like a lot but it is to me. When I first released the book I sold a couple dozen a day for the first week before it dropped down to five to ten a week for the last few months.
I’m not sure if it was the Kindle Countdown Deal we did but we’d done that two times previously and although sales were good, they weren’t THAT good. I also benefited from the free advertising of the local beach paper reviewing my book. Though that wouldn’t be nearly enough to explain the Kilimanjaro peak of sales, it was the second factor that made my weekend so fantastic.
I’ve had brushes with infamy (there was an incident involving duct tape, a bull whip, Peter Dinklage a fourteen inch cattle prod, a clown suit, adult diapers, somebody’s pet monkey, a bowl of dead goldfish, a handful of Mollies, a girl named Molly, Miley Cyrus and the wrongful application of way too much eucalyptus) but never experienced proper celebrity.
The beach paper is small and circulates to five thousand readers. The beach itself is also small, a quarter mile across and five miles long. Every single human being on that stretch of land, however, apparently reads every inch of that paper because I literally could not leave the house this weekend without being waved at.
Over the course of the weekend I was mobbed by tens of fans overwrought with Oglesmania. They would rush up to me and say things like, “I saw you in the paper, the book sounds interesting” or “Hey, I didn’t know you were an author, congratulations.” But they always said it with a look of needy intensity in their eyes which made me nervous. And sometimes they didn’t so much “rush up to me” as “continue sitting in a lawn chair” as I walked by but it was all very impressive and overwhelming, I assure you.
I’m not emotionally equipped to deal with this celebrity status; I don’t have the necessary decorum. Our laundry room is outside. You have to leave our gated courtyard and walk around the back to access it. If there’s one thing I hate it is a less than full load of laundry. I was doing darks on Sunday and when I saw that a few more things could fit I took off both my shorts and my shirt hoping that I could slip back inside without being seen. But wouldn’t you know it, there was a paparazzi (neighbor) out there with a camera (talking on a cell phone.) I’m going to end up just like Lindsey Lohan only prettier.
Despite the hassle, all this attention feels good. Like vindication. A lot of hard work has finally paid off and people know my fucking name.
It’s been a very good weekend indeed. So, a big thank you to everyone who has bought the book and supported me over the years. I love you all like a porn star loves his fluffer!
Lost In Spain: A Collection of Humorous Essays by Scott Oglesby
The funniest book you’ve never read.