What you’re reading right now is known as the “flap copy.” This is where the 72,444 words of my latest book are cooked down to fit this space.  But how does one do that? Do you reveal pivotal plot points like the one at the end of the book where the little girl on crutches points an accusing finger and shouts, “The killer is Mr. Potter”?
I have too much respect for you as an attention-deficient consumer to attempt such an obvious ruse. But let’s not play games here. You picked up the book already, so you either:
A.  Know who I am
B.   Liked the cool smoking jacket I’m wearing on the cover
C.   Have just discovered that the bookstore restroom is out of toilet paper 
Is it a sequel to my autobiography If Chins Could Kill: Confessions of a B Movie Actor?  Sadly, no, which made it much harder to write. According to my publisher, I haven't “done” enough since 2001 to warrant another memoir.
Is it an “autobiographical novel”? Yes. I’m the lead character in the story, and I’m a real person, and everything in the book actually happened, except for the stuff that didn’t.
The action revolves around my preparations for a pivotal role in the A-list relationship film Let’s Make Love!  But my Homeric attempt to break through the glass ceiling of B-grade genre fare is hampered by a vengeful studio executive and a production that becomes infected by something called the “B movie virus,” symptoms of which include excessive use of cheesy special effects, slapstick, and projectile vomiting.
From a violent fistfight with a Buddhist to a life-altering stint in federal prison, this novel has it all. And if the 72,444 words are too time-consuming, there are lots and lots of cool graphics.
Regards,
Bruce “Don’t Call Me Ash” Campbell