One of my other novels…. for those who may be interested…
“Oh, Carley I’m enjoying your book. I’m about halfway through it.”
Tonight I sold a copy of METAL MAN WALKING to one person and its companion novel, ANNIE DREAMING to another.
Sold the copy of METAL MAN WALKING this morning for $14.50 — my favorite part, signing the book in hopes that the reader will love the novel and cherish it. This reader plans to share it — after reading it — which my brother does with his books.
I sold a copy of METAL MAN WALKING today. Every sale counts.
Please don’t forget, writers write to be read. We don’t — for the most part, that is — write for therapy ( I hate that thought wherever it is expressed for I no longer write for therapeutic reasons; I may have done so when I was 14 years old and in a perpetual state of angst but now I write for the sake of writing, for the love of writing, for the joy of reading. )
At any rate, please don’t forget, a book is meant to be read — once it is written.
The novelist’s greatest joy is to write the novel, but the novel’s joy lies in the mind of its reader.
Dropped off three copies each of METAL MAN WALKING and THE EIGHT-FOOT BOY to the shop downtown Summerville named The Finishing Touch; at the same time spoke with a lovely lady about my novels and about two book clubs she belongs to in the area. Also picked up a commission check from the owner of The Finishing Touch and cash from a sale made since my Third Thursday visit in April.
Actually brought home some “bacon” today. Of course, the leavings are minuscule but tasty nevertheless.
I received an email from my mother, then from my father informing me that a professor at the college where my father worked for thirty-two years was “very complimentary” of my first novel, METAL MAN WALKING.
My father also informed me that this compliment was “unsolicited” and that this form of praise “is the very best kind.”
That’s what I say to an acquaintance today – “Hey _________!” I sit down beside her, touch her shoulder lightly, smile, say, “I’m ready for you to buy one of my books.”
She smiles back, says, “Do you have one with you?”
“Yes I do,” I say. “Do you have $10?”
She smiles again, pulls out two crumpled five dollar bills. She asks, “Which one should I get?”
I suggest METAL MAN WALKING. She nods.
I get the book; she gives me the ten dollars. I sign the copy and hand it over. Another woman picks it up, peruses the cover. As usual, I feel a tad guilty but I’m happy to have another reader.