In the last week, Prisoner of Trebekistan has picked up two incredibly kind new blurbs from people I'm sure you've heard of, and we're getting feedback from buyers from major retail stores that is just amazingly positive.  And I'm not even scratching the surface of the good news. 

I mention this for two reasons: (a) to brag like a howler monkey in mating season, and (b) because, curiously, I find that — to be honest — it's starting to sorta scare the crap out of me on some level.

How interesting.

It's clear from your emails that a lot of people who read this site feel, I dunno, a certain vicarious empathy for the odd little adventures I share here in between all the complaining.  And I'm flattered and pleased about that.  So I'll share this, too:

I find myself genuinely weirded out at the realization that this thing could actually be a real success.  I'm not sure I've ever really had one before.  I've had lots of small successes; my radio career was like that, for example.  And I've been part of other people's big successes many times; CSI leaps to mind.  But the vast majority of things I've ever done or tried have been somewhere in the range between modest to abject — albeit interesting — failures.

This has probably always been the case for a lot of people, and maybe even most, at least if my reading of history is itself not a complete failure, too.  So failure is something I know I can do.  I know how to be disappointed.  It sucks, but hey, I've got the drill down pat.  I know exactly how to buck up, refocus, and start again.  I am fantastic at bucking up.  It's the bulk of what I've done, both personally and professionally, for most of my adult life.

But what happens if the book is the success that a lot of people who really would know are starting to think it might be?

Holy crap.  I have no idea what that looks like.

So that's exciting.  But — and here's the thing maybe you see right along with me here — it's also a rather large unknown.  And on some level, sometimes, for like a minute or two once or twice a day. . . it kinda scares the flying shite out of me.

Weirdly, this actually something I write about in the book.  One of the big hurdles to winning on Jeopardy!, for example, is actually being able to imagine that you can.  This sounds easy when you're reading a blog, I imagine.  But it's a different thing when you're standing between two smart people and Alex is grilling you about Antarctic Mythology with klieg lights shining on your forehead. 

In a way, I guess what's coming is a lot like that.  If anything happens at all.  So I'll get my head around it soon enough.  It's doable.  But it really does take some preparation.

I'm trying to think of it as slow bungee jumping.  You know it's pretty safe, and you'll eventually get back home with really great stories, and mostly it's gonna be a whole lot of giggling.  But you also want to wear safety equipment anyway.

So if I show up on some talk show couch in six months, and it looks like I've got water wings under my sport jacket. . . well, now you know why.