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.