Burnt...

I'm burnt y'all and I think I'm going to cut back some of my NYC signings. Kensington has not done a good job with my publicity and unless they have a better plan when I hit the NYC, I don't see a reason to do these signings. The Atlanta signing went okay, but then we went to a book club conference and I sold a bunch of books.

But beyond all of that, I've been on the road for about five years straight and this tour is letting me know that I abhor traveling. Not dislike, but abhor. I have been in almost 500 Holiday Inns over these five years and if I see another one, I'll puke. There has GOT to be a better way to promote ones book than being on the road. The sense of isolation, the monotony, and the neverending boredom is all encompassing. Each city melds into another and even if you're not well traveled, things really begin to look the same.

And you're constantly tired. I fly to Tampa tomorrow and I have to get up at 5am for a 7:55am flight. It's nearly 1am right now and I feel like an insominiac. Honestly, I don't know how rock stars do it. What I DO understand is how they take drugs to numb themselves. It's that bad.

Here's what I'm dreaming about right now:

1. Hugging my wife
2. Wrestling with my son.
3. Sleeping in my own bed for about twelve hours.
4. Getting on my new motorcycle and riding for no reason to nowhere.
5. Not writing a damn thing for a week at least.

What am I listening to in order to get myself straight: Prefab Sprout: Bonny. Why that? It's the music I have in my head for a script I'm writing. I can't get away from it.