No gender stuff today! Sorry! In fact, no more gender stuff, EVER. I have decided that it is detracting from my brand and compromising my market potential. I do not want to be pigeonholed as some "niche writer" who writes for "niche markets" about things like "whether sexism exists."*
What I want is money! I have been taking note of the crumbling publishing industry, and where it decides to invest its by-all-accounts extremely limited funds. Here is what I have learned:
2: Harpers has signed a deal for $1 million for the English translation of a 983-page book about an incestuous Nazi who "sodomizes himself with a sausage."3: There are a lot of books about people who do something for a year. Like follow self-help books, or the Bible!
Therefore, I would like to open up the floor for bidding on my latest project, a 900,000-word memoir about my experiences of putting the Bacon Explosion up my butt. For a year.
I would like to stress that this is not one of those treacherous falsified memoirs you've heard about so much lately! No, sirree: this is me, actually putting a Bacon Explosion, with its two pounds of delicious sausage covered in two pounds of artfully interwoven bacon and slathered with conveniently lubricating barbecue sauce, up my actual butt. Every day! And writing about it! For MONEY! Sweet, glorious money.
This transgressive yet universally relevant work will appeal to readers of Beyond Nose to Tail and Eat Pray Love. Publishers! Contact me! You are running out of money! This may be your last chance to spend it on something so really, terrifically, medically unwise.
*On an entirely unrelated note, here is a pretty good Dinosaur Comic. OH, DARN IT.