So there I was, the other week, feeling all dejected and spurned over Assembing The Lord's dismal sales. Sure, I haven't done any signings or readings - there are reasons for that, believe me - and poetry isn't a hot commodity or anything, but I genuinely believed that we could move more than twelve copies of this thing by now. (Did I mention that ten of those copies were purchased by my dad? My dad rocks.) So we're coming up on ninety days since the book came out, and we just logged our thirteenth sale! Go us! That means, like, good luck, right? I divided 90 by 13 in our cheap basic calculator and I guess it works out to one copy sold for every seven days or something. (Not quite, but I'm not typing out all the decimals right now. I mean, I just stained a side porch today, and I'm wiped, you know?)
Anyhow, sweet! And that's a Jay-Z-on-American Gangster "sweet," like it's the 1970s and things can only get better from here. Onward and upward, etc.