brevity

It’s more than selling books. I know this because I just had an event—a signing at a winery where I sold plenty of books—and didn’t break even. It wasn’t until the next day, when I sold a few more books to people that felt guilty for not going to the signing, that I was able tally up the total and feel a little better because finally we were in the black. Up twelve bucks. But all of this—the signing, being up a dozen dollars—seems silly now. It is Tuesday night. The event has passed. The sky is bright with stars. S.B. has candles lit all over the house. Nobody is Cutting Teeth. And I’ve had just enough aiming fluid so that now I’m ready to take a shot. At ignorance. Infomercials. The death of customer service. But I know that doing this—focusing on low-hanging fruit—is like shooting fish in a barrel. And we already have enough of that. Flip through the channels. Watch the news. Listen to cubicle conversations and pop radio. Don’t think. Don’t fight. Just do what you’re told. Push on through the days. Safe. Blind. Timid. Make ends meet. Or better yet, live comfortably. Subscribe to someone else’s beliefs—King James, Muhammad, Buddha, your Husband—and complain about how you’re a victim. Because the way of life you wanted so badly is not there for you. It did not come through in a Red upset. It is not there in a Blue victory. And the worst part of all is that you cannot find meaning in anything because you’ve never been brave enough to think on your own. And brevity is the lifeblood of the spirit. That undeniable, inexplicable thing that drives us each day to put one foot in front of the other and keep at this keeping on. Because it is more than selling books. Tuesday nights. And events that have passed. It is much, much more than that. And the trick to getting there—to having IT—is to be unafraid. Aim truly. And be willing to take a shot. ~ K.J.