And, let's face it, I'm not normal. I'm a sadomasochist, for goodness sake. I could buy for Bobo if I succeeded and the empty bowl which he would disconsolately lick if I did not. Marketing is fine. Marketing is peaceful.
Marketing is zen.
My first novel lies, a lonely orphan, on a shelf. Maybe my book is just lousy. At least a couple of editors thought so. The day of my three-hour meeting with my agent, I was waiting for the elevator when a dapper gentleman with a New York Post rolled up under his arm walked up and smiled. He spoke with great dignity and extended his hand.