My son and I just finished the Gospel of Luke. Ideally, we read a few chapters of the Bible together every night, but it's actually more like three to four times a week. Still, we've made it through three
A new Christian bookstore opened today in an outdoor mall near our house, so he and I went to check it out. As most authors are wont to do, I wandered by the fiction aisle and was pleased to see that they had a couple copies of The Last Con and one copy of Playing Saint. Just then, an employee happened by and said, "Can I help you find anything?"
Thinking I'd be clever or cute or something, I said, "Have you ever read either of these books?"
"No, I don't believe I have," she replied.
"They're amazing," I quipped, planning of course to aw-shucksingly reveal that I had written them after building them up to a ridiculous degree.
"Oh, yes," I said. "Maybe even brilliant."
"What is?" called another clerk asked from behind the counter.
"These two," clerk #1 said, carrying my books over to her.
At this point, my son called me over to look at some comic books we don't yet have. (Aside: Kingstone Bible Comics are the money!) I kind of forgot about the whole shameless self-promotion thing until we got up to the counter and saw my books sitting there.
"Thanks for the recommendation," the clerk said. "I'm going to pass it on to my husband."
In a little too deep to come clean directly I just nodded and expectantly handed her my debit card, which, incidentally, bears my name. She didn't notice.
As we left the store, my son says, "Huh. You're kind of like Jesus."
"How?" I asked.
"You know, pretending to be someone else."
Yeah. That's one way to look at it.