I thought I was going to get a reprieve from, you know, the craziness of my job but alas, it was not to be. Yesterday I got a note from an author who I have been trying to talk to for months. He’s a new author, new book, yadda, yadda. Anyway, he sends me a Paypal yesterday for $100 bucks. When I asked him what it was for, he said “Before we talk, I wanted to throw you a hundred bucks to see what you could do.”
It’s like. Hmm. I don’t know. Maybe I’m a trained dog. “Fetch me some PR!” Good girl! Now, here’s your $100. I was sort of insulted, not to mention the fact that in this day and age when it comes to book publicity, $100 gets you, um, postage.
So I wrote him back and told him that I couldn’t possibly launch a campaign for that amount of money.
He said, “Just try.”
Get the ball, Katie, run, fetch me some PR and be snappy about it.
I think that instead of sending me the hundred bucks, he should have just sent me some kibble. At least that would have made more sense.
If I had a dime for every time I said WTF in 2013, I’d be penning this from my private jet, somewhere over Europe in route to my Villa in the South of France.
Sadly, I don’t get paid for cursing.