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Show Acting Alone Page 43Q succeed beyond our wildest and most frankly insane dreams, an absolute outside maximum of only slighty less than six out of 280 million Americans will buy - that's not necessarily to say read and be moved by - our little serious psychosex bio. You must remember that only one out of 100 people buys one book every one year. So you're not Christ, yet, my friend. Not even Elisha." And the old man would chuckle as Sam sputtered in fury, and he would say, "Yes, we can hear you petitioning Dr. Abraham's soul for inspiration in your fitful dreams on those rare nights when you sleep." He would continue in a gentler tone after he'd shut off Sam's main hot air valve and had brought forth a rare moment of silence over the phoneline. (The soothing hold music of a nearby corporate office could always be heard in the staticky background.) "I'm simply reminding you of these things, my young friend, so you don't delude yourself into a writer's block. Don't take the burden of an imaginary national audience upon your shoulders when the real thing just may come soon enough. Just relax. Have fun. Fulfill the specific stipulations of the book contract. Bring it in nice and neat sometime within the timeframe allotted us by the people in New York. And together you and I will make ourselves a couple million or so on the mini-series deal! Okay, Sammy?" "Mmnf." You can't argue with a wiser, older man's logic. Then the fury of having a bug shoved up his private butt subsided, and Sam found that he'd been appropriately moved by the rationalist sentiment contained in the old man's stats, even though his feverish ears had heard the specific numbers as just blaggablagga and yoonkayoonka, for he never was for shit in math. This is not to say that Sam did not on a regular basis |
