When GDC came out a few months ago, I thought I’d get some copies in the SLCC bookstore.  It isn’t often–or ever, to my knowledge–that employees of the college have had nationally published novels to their name.  I assumed the bookstore would be ebullient to sell a homegrown masterpiece.  Instead, I found them… what’s a mix between indifferent and disdainful?  Well, whatever the word, it described them fairly well.  Eventually, they gave me the standard arrangement for self-published authors: twenty books bought on consignment for sixty days.  Basically, they were covering themselves in anticipation of selling no copies, and after sixty days of indulging me would tell me to take my wares elsewhere.

After two months, they were out of copies.  That changed things. 

So, I just got back from the bookstore, which bought ten more copies—this time not on consignment.  Apparently, they are no longer worried about being able to sell copies.  Can you tell this post has been written in a little bit of smug mode?

I just can’t help it.  I found out today that people have been stealing my book from the bookstore!  While this may not exactly be ethical, I find that really cool.  Now, it’s cool whenever people read my book; it still stuns me a bit that this is so.  It’s even better when people think enough of the book to buy it.  Best of all is when people tell me, in that special shallow-breathed enthusiasm, that they loved the book.  But there’s something special about knowing that people out there consider my book important enough to break the law to attain.  There’s something very charming about the thought of dashing thieves willing to live on the lam for the sake of great literature—or bizarre kids stories about dragons colliding with cows, however you characterize GDC. 

Anyway, I thought it was cool, and it made me happy.