The final call, end of the line, last orders. It's time people... It. Is. Time. My book is going to print and that means, I'm going to be a Goddam author bitches.
Cue running around and nutting everything... like a jackhammer, like a demented animal... like a toddler. Have you seen those things tear up a party? Brutal. But enough with children's festive occasions that are dark and full of terrors. Shine that light on me ... and on you too my beautiful pledgers, (but mainly me) because we did it... (mainly me).
All the Copyediting I swore through. All the Cover design I swore through. All the Typesetting I swore through. And all the Proofreading a lovely lady called Mary did for me. Luv you Mary you Goddess of grammar. All that for this moment right now. To be an author.
The Regret Bit
My book will be out and that means, there will be no more time to pledge, this 1st of July that backdoor to greatness (phrasing) will be closed.
You won't get to brag to friends how you knew me back when. How you supported me when I was nothing. How you are a cultural hound-dog because without your name in the back of my very 1st book, on the very 1st print no one will believe you. No-one.
The sweaty guy in the pub that tells anyone who'll listen how he knew Bono back when, how he jammed with him. You'll be that guy. You'll corner people in queues telling them how you knew me, the huge amazing author Eli Allison, how you helped me publish my first novel and they'll nod along looking for the fire escape. So don't live your life in regret.
Pledge on Sour Fruit so strangers in pubs will believe your bullshit. That's the true meaning of pledging.