Packed deep within a block an inch thick, inserted by the hands of elders, brought from the mountains far away, an object so small that it can only be viewed with a magnifying glass, holds the fate of several thousand people, people who have no knowledge of its existence. 

I thought about starting my next novel with that last sentence.  It makes no sense, but I thought it was an attention grabber.  People would read it and wonder what it was.  Of course, I plan to never reveal it, only referring to it as it. 

People might talk about it, but I probably will never actually describe it.  I figure people would read through a crappy novel just to find out what it was, and then get pissed when it is never revealed. 

From this point people might talk to their friends, get on the internet, im, forums, blogs and write crap about how crappy the book is, the book that never reveals what it is.  They’d go on and on about how they felt cheated when they got to the end of the book and it was still it and nothing more.  And they’d blog and write about how the book’s a ripoff, and how I’m a crappy writer. 

They’d bitch about wanting to get their money back.  They’d do all of this, not knowing how I had orchestrated the entire thing to gain publicity.  They’d never know that the entire novel was a con, to gain money.  The more they talk about the book, the more popular it becomes. 

And then I’ll take that popularity and get a movie deal out of it.  And while promoting the making of the movie, I’ll reveal that I was about to start writing the sequel to the book with no reveal, a new novel where I promise to reveal everything.  And in fact, I’ll probably sell the rights to the book before I actually write a thing.

I assume that it’ll be spectacular, with me being rich in the end.  Or not.  Maybe

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