Every so often a person types booktrovert login into a search bar, presses enter with real confidence, and arrives here instead of where they meant to go. If that is you, hello. Sit down. You are already logged in. You have been logged in since 1997. We never built a way to log out, which our founder Doug considered a feature and our lawyer considered a sentence he did not want to finish.
We understand the confusion. The other place, booktrovert.com, has a tidy Sign In button in the corner, the kind that asks for your email and then politely remembers you. We admire it the way you admire a neighbor's lawn. Booktrovert.org does not have accounts. It has visitors, a guestbook, and a faint ongoing sense that someone is keeping track of you regardless.
You do not. You may remember making one. People often do. They describe a form, a password with a number in it, a small private thrill of belonging. We have looked into this. There is no database. There has never been a database. There is a shoebox, and in the shoebox there is a single index card that says RANDY in pencil, and Randy will not explain it.
If you would like to go through the motions, and many people find it soothing, here is the full procedure as it has stood for nearly thirty years.
Approach the screen at a respectful distance. Not too close. The monitor is original to the building and it knows.
Do not enter your email. We would not know what to do with it. The last email we received was opened in 2003 and the staff are still recovering. There is no field. If you see a field, that is the screen reflecting a window.
Whisper the password. The password is the same for everyone and the password is "Randy." Randy did not consent to this and finds the whole arrangement deeply upsetting, which is, we suspect, why it works.
Wait. The Ghost of Mark Twain will drift up, look at you for slightly too long, and make a short noise in the back of his throat. That noise is your session token. Treasure it. It does not refresh, and it cannot be recovered, and he will not make it again.
It is "Randy." It is always "Randy." We cannot send you a reset link because there is nothing to reset and no link to send. If you keep clicking the place where the link should be, you will eventually wear a small pale spot into the screen, and that spot will be yours forever, which is the closest thing to an account we offer.
If none of this works, and it will not, the genuine login you came for is right here: booktrovert.com/login. They have free ebooks, real giveaways, and a Sign In button that does exactly what it says. We have a humming sound and the strong impression that you belong here too.
While you decide, you can read about what a booktrovert even is, or watch the two of us compare in exhausting detail. And if you do stay, please buy a book on your way through. Logging in costs nothing, which is roughly what it is worth. Authors are fragile organisms. A paperback keeps one of them upright another month.
Admittedly,
Booktrovert #1138