Labor Pains

I can't write much right now. I have to go to the store and buy things I forgot to buy yesterday, to make Key Lime pies.

I made two gallons of stuffing for the pig yesterday, and I carted it to Val's, and then I returned home and realized the pies were not going to happen.

The stuffing was easy, in that it was straightforward and simple, but it was lots of work. Slicing four baguettes into cubes was the worst of it. Later, I had to boil down Marsala and apricot nectar for the pig glaze.

It turned out to be surprisingly expensive. A whole bottle of Marsala, a bottle of nectar, four baguettes, six sticks of butter...it adds up. But it's going to be unbelievably fantastic. Here's the recipe. I think there is supposed to be 1/4 cup of Marsala in the stuffing, not 3/4. Judge for yourself. The amounts listed on this page will work with maybe half a dozen pork chops. You scale it up for a pig.

Later on, I'm headed to Val's, for a Father's Day feast. My old man will be there, obviously. He told me not to buy him a present, so I'm going to show him his present and tell him I'm sending it back.

It ought to be a really fine day for all concerned, except the pig.

In other news, I emailed Tucker Max about his HuffPoo piece, and I commiserated on his small first advance. He said not to worry, because his second advance is gargantuan. That's encouraging.

Here's something funny from his site. "Our" refers to Tucker and Maddox:

Doors were shut in our faces, yet our books hit THEIR list, WITHOUT their help. They aren't in touch anymore, even forgetting the internet aspect of this discussion. Think about it: Could they pimp Ana Marie Cox (Wonkette) or Jessica Cutler (Washintonienne) anymore than they do? But their books FACEPLANTED. No sales. My book--by itself--has outsold both Wonkette and Washingtonienne...COMBINED. By a factor of three. And Maddox will outsell all of us put together. America is ready, America wants men who have the balls to stand up and be men, America is sick of being mothered and held down, and they are going to get it regardless of where it comes from.

Hilarious. The question is, when will publishers figure it out? Wonkette is a hack, and Jessica Cutler would have to study for decades to get good enough to be a hack, but they got advances big enough to pay for homes. Tucker and Maddox have products the public actually wants, yet they got $15,000 combined.

I wonder if Kensington made it up to them later. Or do they just say, "Sorry, you signed the contract"? Something to think about when it's time to shop that second book around.

My own royalties won't begin to flow until a date in the far-off future. If the book really sells, will they say, "Sorry, you're not seeing a dime until the contract date," or will they say, "Please accept a supplementary advance and try, TRY to forgive us and think about us for your next book"?

I do not know. I know what I'd do, if I had paid a bestselling author peanuts up front and I wanted him to come back. But then I would not have tried to put out a book with the title "Play it Again, Spam." So I guess the answer is, they hold you to the contract.

I'm off to the store. I think I'll spend my advance on some Tic Tacs.