Christmas Book Blues

You would think a writer like moi would run out of things to gripe about. But nooo. Today I dig deep for a situation many of us find ourselves in. What to get our loved ones for Christmas?
Even if you don’t celebrate the Big Day, I’ll bet you’ve wracked your brain at one time or another over what gift you think will amaze and delight your loved ones or friends. In my family, wool socks are a perennial favorite.
Those with self-published books will always have the perfect gift, seeing as how the company that printed or digitized their book also strong-armed them into buying a warehouseful of the “units,” as they’re known in pub-speak. So what if your hairdresser got one last year? It’s probably propping up the stylist’s chair anyway. Now she’ll have one for the magazine rack, too.
And if you hate paying those mailing fees to send Aunt Mary in Boingo Boingo your latest tome, you can get a gift card for Amazon, B & N or other online bookstore. It fits, and it ships.
On the other hand, that relative you cannot stand might be punished more with some horrid self-pubbed novel than another pair of itchy wool socks. Even if, with socks, you can always add in a sprinkle of itching powder (I saw it in a cartoon–is there really such a thing?).

But what about writers (like me) who don’t have a new book out this year? I guess I can be really really lame and give Chicken Soup books where I’ve published a story or two. But somehow it’s not really the same. Guess I’ll have to stock up on socks and hope the world doesn’t end in 2012.

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