January 16th, 2022
Today, at work, some of my co-workers, organically, spontaneously, decided to choose one of my books and started a book club around it.
It was one of the neatest, sweetest things I have ever, as a writer, watched unfold around me, and I literally did nothing to make it happen.
But I did say, “Hey! If you’re all going to buy the same book of mine for a book club I can give you a discount on that!”
And I thought I’d offer it to you, too.
If you ever decide that you want to start a book club with one of my books, reach out to me and I will give you a discount on books. I would say a club consists of at least two people, so it has to be at least two books. And the more books you need, the better a discount I can offer.
Even if the book club formed today doesn’t manage to get together or even finish the book, the sentiment gave me an overwhelming case of the warm fuzzies. I can still feel them. Plus, they paid me in cash so that’s easier to hide from the IRS. More warm fuzzies.
Maybe someday I’ll even crash some of your book clubs. I’m a great houseguest. I like cheese and am allergic to wine.
All my love.
P.S. They’re reading Flip, if you’re curious.
The Den 