Not that you would, but don’t miss Terry Teachout’s essay about going home again. This will give you a hint of what it’s about, although it’s about much more.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Thanks, Carol, I’d love to, but\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6\u00e2\u20ac\u009d But the truth is that I don’t play anymore, Carol, I haven’t touched a bass in years, it wouldn’t be fun for either one of us, maybe some other time<\/em>. Long pause. Deep breath. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153But promise me one thing\u00e2\u20ac\u201ddon’t make me take any solos.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
He also writes this:<\/p>\n
The trouble with good advice is that nobody ever takes it. Kind friends warned me that a book tour is the only thing more humiliating than falling in love with someone who likes you back, but that didn’t stop me from hitting the road and watching every single word they said come true. The TV people hadn’t read my book; the newspaper reporters had, and hated it. As for the in-store appearances, the worst one was in a small town where I did an early-morning guest shot on the local radio station, then went to the mall and sat for five straight hours without signing a single copy.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n