Clever name! ...for this post; which relates to the publishing of The White Fence; on Kindle and Amazon. Which, by the way, I'm perfectly aware is self-publishing, so don't get yer bawls in an uproar. But at almost 72 years old I felt that I didn't have forever to wait for someone to offer to publish the book at a legit publishing house. Which probably wouldn't ever have happened anyway. I'm pretty much aware of my limitations as a writer. But in the self-publishing world I feel like I'm up there with the worst of them.
Now it's done. And at this juncture I've sold probably several hundred copies, mostly print. Kindle is very slow...
The trip up north to pitch the book at the East Hampton Library was lovely in spite of the aches and pains that long road trips put on our aging bodies. We got to visit our Hindu friends in the Catskills and my sister who gave us a perfect party with perfect guests, and on the way home we paid a visit to one of the stars of my book, Frances Delaney Gardiner. Turns out her adopted town, South Boston Virginia, is a very nice place!
Now on to book 2.
But not before asking the important, and inevitable question, Why Bother? Wow. That's a good question! Mickey probably had the best answer, and it didn't take her a heart-beat: Because if I don't do something, I'll upset the lovely apple cart that is our relationship; because an idle mind is the devil's workshop. And besides, thinking about myself is what I do.
Jesus God, I don't want to write about my alcoholism. I hate being tagged in with everybody and his brother. But I suppose, to the extent that I'm committed to anything it's to autobiographical writing. Forgive me if I don't flog myself over finding the most appeal in the narcissistic writings of Miller and Mailer and Exley and Wolfe, and Nin and all of them there. And so, the geriatric rank amateur enters the fray again.
I've decided that the working title for #2 will be Holding On. The White Fence, as we well remember, was, for several years at least, titled Hold Still. Hold Still of course had to do with what I considered at one time a trauma, that is my days of modeling for my Pa while he took photographs to use in his illustrations. (Yeah, I go into it in The White Fence.)
Holding On, because, well, because I will be writing about my alcoholism, though I'll try to make it just part of a story, not the whole story, and, well, it will be a bumpy ride.
