Dismantle My Bed

Craft your bed.

Move all of the book boxes from the five closets they are taking over and into book box bed formation. Remember, they are heavy, so it helps to have another person involved. I’m still convinced that moving these books over and over is the reason I developed an ’s’ shaped spine that amazed my chiropractor and earned me a spot in the Guinness Book of World Records.

Using your horrible selling ability and the closet space that the books take up, stoke your frustration. It helps to go into a closet every day to look for something, and be unable to maneuver around the book boxes in the way. When you are thoroughly annoyed, it will encourage you to find another place for the books. This is where great ideas are born.

To be truly effective with this step, you must pretend that you were unaware of this extreme lack of selling ability before you had the books printed. The more people you can fool with you maniacal ravings about your overstock, the better. If people know you willingly spent thousands on books with a minimal chance of ever making profit, they will think that you are insane, and you can’t enjoy your book box bed from the asylum.

Be a terrible salesperson. I mean, not just average, but really, really bad. If you were in New Orleans during Katrina and couldn’t sell your air mattress as a raft for fifty cents, that’s what I’m talking about. Combine this lack of selling ability with outrage about it. Keep spouting that you are a writer and curse your natural talents as the cause of all of the pain in the world.

If your current vehicle is less than badass, you should add obtaining a badass vehicle to your preparations. Half of my books arrived at a time in an extended cab pick-up. With almost one ton a load in its bed, that truck was kissing those speed bumps with tongue and a discrete leg-humping. It would have been painful to watch, if it weren’t so sexy.