Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Make Mine a Sarsaparilla

I keep reading stories about these indie authors who are having phenomenal success marketing their books while I labor fruitlessly in obscurity ... I suppose it should be inspirational, but honestly, it's kinda depressing .... it's like they're a group of high-society swells having a madcap evening of fun and frivolity in Manhatten, swilling champagne, dancing, dining and laughing in glamorous nightclubs ... while I'm a lone horseman entering a sleepy western village, clip-clopping along a dusty street, past tumbleweed and sleeping dogs, pushing through creaking saloon doors, spurs jangling with slow footsteps through an empty room, the only other person, a watchful bartender stops drying glasses, leans over the bar and asks, "What'll it be, stranger?"