Monday, April 6, 2020

Once Upon A Sale

I sold a book today. You might well ask, “So what?”  Well, it gave me pleasure, that’s “so what” … in a way a sale, or two, or three, through Amazon, or I-Tunes, doesn’t. It isn’t only the money (who was it who said, “when they say it isn’t about the money…it’s about the money”)? Hard to punctuate that last sentence and not destroy the joke… think about it.

I digress: this particular sale came through Pay Pal via and the purchaser not only gets a nice clean “collector’s edition of Cagney&Lacey….and Me, she gets my autograph as well. It is all very personal, even more so during this time of national sequestration. I mean, who knew I was craving human contact? Who could have predicted the special warmth that would be transmitted from this unknown admirer? It also beat out Amazon and I-Tunes in terms of the amount of money in my pocket. (See? Toldja.)

Most importantly, it made me think about writing. My novella is in the hands of a trusted friend who tells me she likes what she is reading. That got me all tingly too. What can I say? I’m easy. I am even enjoying sequestration. It has brought out my inner hermit.

Here on Fisher Island, they have closed the beaches, the marina, the spa, the tennis courts and the golf course. The weather is perfect, but what are you supposed to do in it if you can’t swim, chase a ball, or flop on the sand… Walk? You have to be kidding me.

I am doing fine. There are not enough hours in the day. Sharon is experimenting with cooking (today), she is finalizing her own book (Apparently there were Complaints) and, if this were a more serious piece, I would wax eloquent as to how good it is. You will have to wait for Simon & Schuster’s 2021 release of the tome to judge for yourselves.

There is my desk to deal with, more E-mail than ever (what else do people under lock and key have to do with their time?). Almost every day another draconian ruling comes my way via The Club on Fisher Island, or the Fisher Island Community Association, or the City of Miami Beach. Trying to get my bank on the phone is enough to fill the better part of any afternoon.

There has been no time to blog. And, truth to tell, I miss it. Today’s book sale made me realize I miss all of you out there as well. Not only that, with all of you stuck at home and tied to the Internet there is a better chance you might actually read what it is I am writing about.

There is another reason for cheer. Today the death toll has slowed. Could it be the turning of a corner or just a false indicator? “What will the future hold…” Carole King wrote for The Trials of Rosie O’Neill. Then she added, “I wish I knew” and that ended the song and this entry.

Barney Rosenzweig

No comments: