(The following is an abridged Introduction to my (e)book, Who Is Grey Albright? To purchase, click here. It’s $5. I will be donating a portion to my growing drinking problem. After you buy it, I’ll email you the (e)book.)
An (e)book sounds like something that should be trying to sell you something. That’s not my goal. Well, I mean, it’s not my goal to sell you anything beyond this (e)book. Though I do know about this great deal on Nigerian lottery tickets. Not only will I not be selling something, but I imagine if you read this (e)book from pages 1-102, you’ll actually be less inclined to buy something from me. You might not be interested in anything I say ever again. Now if you read pages 1-102, but skip pages 19-20, 32-34, 41-43, 54-58, 61-63, 67-73, 88-89 and 93 (depending about how you feel about cocaine and prostitutes) then you might still find me somewhat likable.
I decided if I were going to write this (e)book, I’d leave it all out there like a flasher. A flasher of regrets and embarrassments. Psst, kid, wanna see the time I was brought up on sexual harassment charges? What would be the point of writing about myself then holding back on the juicy stuff? Unfortunately, as I wrote the ‘juicy stuff,’ I realized I was an unlikable character. To use the parlance from my chosen profession, where’s the save the cat moment? Shouldn’t I learn something, have some spiritual awakening at the end and work for the Peace Corps? From where I sit, there’s no tidy arc. I hope this doesn’t spoil your enjoyment of this (e)book, but I don’t run into a burning building and save a group of Taiwanese orphans that I then coach all the way to the Little League World Series, only to lose in the last round, while learning more from our defeat than we’d ever learn from victory. In high school, there were no slow claps. In college, there was no exposing of a larger conspiracy with the help of an inexplicably handsome Paul Walker. There’s some dream chasing, some failure, some bright spots, some love, some lost, some anger, some regret, some hope, some rambling (like right here). There’s no feel good closure.
I’m still in the middle of this (e)book. Will there be a follow up in five years where I get married, have kids and live happily ever after? Maybe that there could be a happily ever after is the happily ever after. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that I’m not married and don’t have kids, did that ruin the (e)book for some people? Mea culpa, my Latin friends.
Most of the opening chapters are of the lie-on-the-couch-of-a-psychologist-and-stop-telling-me-about-your-problems-I-have-my-own variety. I suggest you skip those chapters if they’re not your cup of tea. Though you had to expect some of that sort of thing if you’re reading an (e)book titled, “Who is Grey Albright?” I don’t want you to feel like I’m putting my own issues above yours, but you are reading my (e)book, I’m not reading yours.
As I wrote this (e)book, a word I kept coming back to me: narcissist. What kind of narcissist writes an autobiography? Do I really think people are that interested in me? Not really. What started as a few short stories turned into a cathartic exploration of my past. Was like writing a journal for past events that I now had the hindsight to either appreciate or regret. Okay, and maybe I’m a narcissist. Worst comes to worst, if a girl at a bar asks me about myself, I can just hand them a printed-out copy.
As with most things, the more you’re doing it for yourself, the better off you are. That is the last bit of actual advice you are going to read from me. Unless you’re reading the following (e)book from the perspective of a cautionary tale of ‘things not to do.’ Then, I guess, it could be considered helpful.
Finally, when I got sick of writing about myself, I’d write a short piece of fictionalized nonsense. These are interspersed throughout the (e)book. They should be pretty obvious. For instance, if you’re reading an interview I did with a leprechaun and thinking to yourself, he didn’t really interview a leprechaun, go with your gut.
Finally II: The Return of Finally, “Who is Grey Albright?” is a bit of a misnomer since there is no Grey Albright. It’s a pseudonym, an alias, a make-believe name of WASPy nomenclature.
Hello, I am Grey Albright, and I approve of those plaid pants.
I never meant to deceive people into thinking my name was Grey Albright. When I started Razzball, it was something to pass the time until the WGA strike lifted. I had no intention of taking it much further than that. By the time the strike lifted, Razzball was bigger than I ever intended and I enjoyed writing it, so I stuck to it. That Grey Albright has stick-to-it-ive-ness! The strangest part about having a pen name is how annoying it is when people spell it wrong. You’d think I wouldn’t care since it’s not my real name. Now I know how Mark Twain felt when he received fan mail addressed to Marc Twain.
I originally used an alias rather than my real name because I didn’t want potential employers to Google my name and find I was writing about fantasy baseball. The funny thing, depending on your sense of humor, is my screenwriting name is an alias too. If I had to do Razzball again, I would’ve just used my real name and told future employers to, borrowing heavily from Courtney Love, fuck off. Before you judge too harshly, think about how many of you would comment on the site with your first and last name.
So now… Now I kinda like the mystery of my alias. “Who is Grey Albright?” “Who is Grey Albright?” Does it matter which word you emphasize? The essence is me. I is he. Even if officially it’s not my name, after writing every day for the last 4 years under the name Grey Albright, you can’t hide yourself. The words are mine; the name just isn’t. So if you think “Who is Grey Albright?” is just about me stating my real name, you’re going to be disappointed. That’ll have to wait for “Who is Grey Albright? Really?” the sequel. (Or you can just piece together clues from this (e)book and try Google.) Enjoy!
–To purchase, click here.