In 24 hours, the signed, numbered, limited edition hardbacks of The Happiest Days of Our Lives will finally go on sale, and I’ve been signing and numbering books so we can process and ship orders as quickly and efficiently as possible.

There are only 300 in this limited edition, (which sounds like a lot to me until I look at my traffic stats and see over 30,000 RSS subscribers and an average of about 6000 different people actually hitting my site every day) and I’ve been signing them 50 books at a time, to ensure that my signature looks good — it turns out that a standard Sharpie pen is good for about 20 signatures from me before the tip breaks down, for those of you scoring at home.

The last few weeks have been frustrating and discouraging, but the last few days have been a hell of a lot more fun while we get ready to sell these books tomorrow. Signing them has been fun, too, mostly because I’ve been keeping myself entertained by singing little songs when I sign different numbers:

"17/300 – She’s only seventeen . . ." (Kip Winger, why hast thou forsaken me?)
"19/300 – Ninteen! Ninteen! Nuh-nuh-nuhnuh-ninteen!" (Paul Hardcastle FTW!)
"25/300 – Twenty-five, twenty-five, does whatever a twenty-five does." (I didn’t pick up the book and make it walk on the ceiling . . . or did I?)
"42/300 – Don’t ask me, for number 42, don’t have to tell you, I signed your precious book." (To the tune of INXS’s ‘Never Tear Us Apart.’)
"87/300 – Star Trek: The Next Generation . . . started in niii-eye-yiii-teen eighty-seven" (Sung to the tune of our theme song, of course.)

I think I need to move to a more well-ventilated area.

The Compulsive Reader reviewed The Happiest Days of Our Lives, and says:

Frequently, I found myself smiling at memories of my own that reading
this book evoked. Ah, yes, I remember the weekend-long Dungeons and
Dragons marathons with my fellow geeks. I, too, grin like an idiot at
the thought of my fictional relationship with the cute girl in 10th
Grade that didn’t even know my name. There are few geeks our age that
don’t flinch in terror recalling the institutionalized bullying that is
dodgeball, with the flying, red-rubber spheres of shame.

Wil’s writing style is very easy-going, almost conversational.  He is a master storyteller who takes the ordinary aspects of all our lives, wraps them
in nostalgia, and sets them on a dusty shelf in the sun to fill the
room with rainbows.

The nostalgia, however, is one of the small weaknesses of this book.
While not over the edge, the combination of nostalgia and optimism
could get overwhelming in a longer book. Even in the unhappiest of
memories, Wil finds elements of hope and beauty.

If you want to get a paperback, you should order now, because the signed, numbered, limited edition hardbacks go on sale at Noon PST, on Sunday November 18.

Because PayPal refuses to address their multiorder shipping problem, and because I know so many people are waiting for autographed books to give as holiday gifts, I’ve made an executive decision: I will halt paperback orders for one week, or until the limited edition hardback sells out, whichever comes first. This will make it possible for me to ship signed books everywhere, so they will arrive in time for the holidays. I’m still working on a more sustainable long-term solution.

If you have any questions about the hardcover, post them in comments. I’ll be chained to the computer for the next two hours or so, and I’ll answer as quickly as I can.

I asked my pal John Scalzi, author of The Ghost Brigade, The Android’s Dream, The Sagan Diary, and other awesome books, if he’d read The Happiest Days of Our Lives, and give me a pull quote if he liked it.

He says, “Wil gives lie to the idea that there are no second acts in American lives. He’s on his second act now — as a writer — and he’s doing it without a net, because he’s let us watch him start from zero. It’s been hellaciously impressive to witness. I can’t wait to see what he writes next.”

I guess he liked it!