I’ve put plenty out there in my short time on this rock. Most of the time though, it has been in the safe confines of collaboration. Commercials, songs, apps, posters, articles – all of it was the fine product of many demented brains – and so the consequences of those endeavors, the successes and failures, could and would be shared with the others who created them. Someone doesn’t like our songs? F-em, we do. Someone didn’t like the way we hocked denim? F-em, we did. Having people you respect, who have also given a hardy mental thumbs up to the projects you release into the void, aboard that shooting star or sinking ship most definitely lightens the load – it’d be much easier to jump from a cliff holding the hand of a loved one, and metaphorically that has been the case most of my life.
Before pressing the ‘go live’ button on My Dead Friend Sarah, my brain presented to me a list of possible outcomes that could take a day to sift through. Yes, we all wonder if someone is going to like what we’ve done – we can manage our expectations, and act like we couldn’t care less if people respond positively to our contributions to the world. Those that truly don’t give a fuck, my hat is off to them – then again, that might be why there is so much garbage floating around out there. I gave a lot of thought to how my book would go over and down, and, in the spirit of full disclosure, had I not had my spectacular wife pushing me forward at every turn, I might not have been able to beat down the demons who champion a self-fulfilling defeat. In no particular order, and it certainly isn’t the whole list, here are just a few scenarios that came to mind in the months and days before the release of my book that I’ve deemed Level 9 – all of them a far cry from the baseline worry, “will anyone like it?”
• What if this is the impetus to my own stalker, not just any stalker, the kind who actually attempts to emulate the story line from the book as he or she forces themselves into my real world? Will my cat end up boiled?
• What if the rulers of AA misinterpret how I’ve painted the program and decide to not only revoke my card-carrying status, but print posters to hang on doors outside the various rooms with my face on it banning me from entering for life? Will I have to start my own program for shut-outs called PAA?
• What if I only think I came up with this story, and actually read it on the back of a box of Cheerios on a really hungover morning? I’ll admit it is more likely that it would have been off the back of the sack carrying my greasy Egg McMuffin, but titling this post with something related to the secret ruler of our universe didn’t seem like an especially good idea – they place one call to Amazon, and POOF, My Dead Friend Sarah is gone for ever – even the copies on my hard drive, usb sticks, and CDs – do not question the clown’s powers.
In the spirit of pushing ourselves far out of our comfort zones to achieve wonderful new things though, I’m not adverse to using their name as a tag for this post. Riding their red and yellow coattails to a possible additional view or two might just be worth it when they come calling for my re-education.