Friday, April 27, 2012


Yesterday afternoon, while answering some emails, I suddenly received a pop-up advertisement.  Normally, I minimize these things quickly, or click "delete", but much to my surprise I found myself staring at my own book title.  God bless the publisher for continuing to market this baby after two years, and seeing my own advertisement gave me a new boost of confidence.

Confidence is something, by the way, I've been running low on of late.  I've been down on myself for years now, dejected by my agent's inability to sell any of my new titles (she's made the rounds with no less than seven of my books across the streets of Manhattan and Los Angeles and all points in-between).  And I can't believe she's stuck with me this long . . . loser that I am.  Thanks, Cynthia!  Really, you're the best!!!

Actually, I could care less about seeing my name in print.  I passed that Rubicon decades ago . . . and now all I care about it writing the next thing.  I've even started writing under pseudonyms (pen names) to appease those editors who might have a bias against me, or who just like the sound of a writer with an illustrious name like Emilio S. Boogyman or Sir Gwayn Silverster Loverboy III.

I've got so much material now, so many books and book ideas, I'm nearly drowning in my own voice.  So I guess I'll have to morph and multiply myself (like an amoeba) into many writers of many genres.  One of these days, somebody out there will say "yes" again.

But until then . . . I write on.  Early mornings.  Late nights.

The book advertisement was a pleasant surprise.  And I do appreciate the boost.  I'm writing the publisher to say, "Thank you."

I don't know how effective any of these internet advertisements are, really.  Nor how many people notice them.  But this one caught my attention.

And if an idea strikes me, I may find myself writing during my daughter's graduation ceremony next week.  The Ball State graduation program surely will have some available "white space" in which I can scribble a few paragraphs.


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