On gratitude and its bigness

It's well-documented that I'm a Kevin Smith fan, not even just because of his movies but because of the kind of guy he is. I think I get a lot of my self-deprecating online demeanor from him. Anyway, on one of his "An Evening With…" DVDs, he says, at one point: "Gratitude's a big thing with me."

I've taken those simple words in that exact phrasing to heart. I've tried, anyway.

The average experience of a first-time published author is not one of instant passage to any strain of Easy Street. With the joy of seeing a copy of your book in a bookstore comes the stress of worrying if anyone will buy that copy; with the honor of joining the pros comes the responsibility to not screw it up. It's easy to forget what a special thing has happened to you because the attendant challenges, as you perceive them, have grown to fill the vacuum of your new and wider life. As one of the philosophers of our age made axiomatic, "Mo' money, mo' problems."

I must learn to be more grateful.

The acknowledgements (or acknowledgments—what can I say, S&S wanted the American spelling) page of "Two Gentlemen" is short and sweet but honest. But that's not what I'm trying to get across here. I mean a more spiritual kind of gratitude, not, thanks to that guy who did that thing.

My adventure with "Two Gentlemen" began on January 6 of this year and so it is a suitable year for being grateful. My year of casual thinking, if you will. Certainly I am grateful that the fans loved this text, and for the core group that is supporting the book and telling their friends and otherwise becoming engaged ambassadors for the brand via social media connections blah blah whatever.

And of course I'm grateful to S&S, for the opportunity, and to the individual people along the way (my agent, my editor, my publicist, a couple of people I see copied in on e-mail forwards who I don't have a "my _______" relationship with but they're lookin' out for me nonetheless).

But all this implies that all I care about is the words available on paper at a reasonable price and there's been more to the book than that.

I'm grateful to be a stone's throw from Manhattan, the heart of the publishing industry—so I can see this strange new world through my own fresh eyes, and be present for the kinds of things that some say you can do by phone.

I'm grateful that promoting this book can be, and often has been, fun. Some authors' best hope is in underattended readings, some sign copies for four curious passersby in a strip mall shop. I hang out with self-identifying achievers and sip dairy cocktails; it's my business to indulge in pleasure.

I'm grateful for the great conversations I've had with people from around the world, who I'd never have had occasion to speak to until this project fell out of my brain.

I'm grateful that this project has given me opportunities to witness people doing, plainly and simply, the right thing.

Thanks for the memories, as the fellow said. I'm still trying to figure out what it all means. November 2010 is "Two Gentlemen"'s first full month in print and it's the time of the biggest promotional push I'll ever make for it, as we enter those special weeks where consumers rush about in search of holiday gifts. I hope I will be worthy of that excitement. I hope I will remember to be grateful for the adventures, even while I conduct the mundane business. For from the mundane can spring the glorious, and even if it doesn't, I've learned the hard and magical way that anything can happen.

So thanks for the great ride you've taken me on this year, universe. Great book on shelves right now, turkey and taters next week should be the usual bang-up success at Chez Bertocci. Frankly, I can't ask for much more.