Ten Thousand Spoons When All You Need Is A Knife

Well, I survived Masters Week. From Sunday to Monday I worked 126 hours. A lot of it sitting in the rental car that CBS Sports rented for me. A lot of time just waiting for one of them to be ready to come off the course. It was fun, well as much fun as we could make out of it working those kind of hours. I took away a few lessons from the week.

CBS has some serious money. The group I was assigned to was CBS Interactive, the people who run the CBS websites, specifically the marketers who sell adds on their websites and their clients. They rented four houses in West Lake, (the neighborhood Olivia executes the Prince in), paid for four drivers (that was what I did), had a chef come in to cook their dinners, had at least 20 tickets to the tournament including the practice rounds, had access to a private club across from the course that also had a private chef, bartenders and a cigar roller, two massage therapists at the host house in the evening for anyone who needed a massage, and a whole bunch of booze. We were lucky enough to split the beer and wine up at the end of the week, and I took home like 9 or 10 bottles of wine and five or six cases of beer. And that was a fourth of what was left.

The CBS guys and gals, are true hustlers in every sense of the word. They never went to bed until their client did, and made sure they had a good time. They always had a drink in hand, but never got drunk or out of hand. I get it that it's their job, they are closing deals and working clients, I was impressed to say the least. These guys were going to bed after 1am, waking up a few hours later to take their client to the course where they would have a Bloody Mary for breakfast. Hustlers, every last one of them. I was a little envious of their job. A few of them had come directly from Augusta from the Final Four. Who wouldn't want a job that pays you to go out drinking with clients at some of the premier sporting events. But, I think I know myself well enough to know I wouldn't be any good at it.

And life is just one ironical twist from day to day. I was sitting there in West Lake, on the golf course, watching drunk guys play night golf. Literally, I was kind of smiling inside, but life is just that way. I had no idea I would ever get this type of job when I wrote Who Is Olivia Green. My Aunt Cathy texted me to tell me she had an article published and I was so happy for her. I told her I was actually in West Lake, watching drunk guys on the golf course and she sent a text back, "Watch out for Olivia lurking in the shadows with a backpack."

And lastly, one of the themes of this blog has been how I'm not a hustler, and I sometimes wish I was. And there I was with some very successful ones, several who live in New York City. I would bet several of them have contacts with publishers, or literary agents. How many times did I bring up my book? Zero. My mom even texted me and asked if I had a copy with me. At first I justified not trying to bring it up by telling myself that they were paying me to drive them. Nothing else. 

But the more I thought about it, that was me making up an excuse.

And I've thought a lot about that over the last two days. And I realized that I am asking myself to be someone I'm not. And that's kind of bullshit.

I listen to Dave Ramsey pretty regularly and he had a new author on the air the other day. He said something that stuck with me. "The only one that will sell your book is you." And there is a lot of truth in that. 

But the last thing I'm going to do is beat myself up for not trying to hustle some books to guys who work for CBS just because they live in New York, and probably have contacts in publishing.

I'm happy and proud of who I am as a person-father-son-brother-friend-Lieutenant-grandson-nephew-cousin, and uncle. And you know what else, I'm happy and proud of who I am as a writer.

I hope I get nervous every time someone asks me to sign a book, or asks me about my writing.

The book is still selling, and I've been getting some more feedback about me wanting to do the second one. It's a pretty amazing feeling.

I can feel the second book staring to form in my mind. I've started a crime novel based in Augusta, but am almost to a good stopping point. I think once I do, I'll probably jump on What Is Olivia Green.

I'm just waiting for a new ironic twist to come my way.