My first book was published fifteen years ago. Something that has been happening to me now on the road—I meet high school graduates who tell me they read my book when they were kids. Trippy.
On the day of publication, back in 2001, I walked into a bookstore to find my book in the wild. I walked up to a bookseller and said, "I'm looking for a book that was just published. I don't know the author's name, but the book is called Good Night, Monkey Boy." The bookstore employee typed the title into the computer and then grimaced. "What's the matter?" I asked worriedly. The clerk responded, "The author has a really weird last name." I smiled as they butchered my last name and then followed them to the bookshelf where my book was. My friend Erich Birkby was with me, we had the day off from working at the The Hole in the Wall Gang Camp. We were both astonished—there was my book! On the shelf! In a bookstore.
I paid for the book with a credit card and walked away undetected. It's a tradition that I had with every on-sale date...until Punk Farm was published. Once they started saying, "Hey, Jarrett!" my jig was up...
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