No sales.
The lawyer who solicited me as a prospective expert witness in a comics copyright case (See: Earlier “Adventure”) remains disappeared. (May have to give up on him.)
The book I was solicited to review (See: Even Earlier “Adventure”) remains undelivered.
It has gotten so that, seeking recognition, I have taken to scanning the book shelves behind the experts being interviewed on CNBC hoping to spot the spine of one of my titles.
I did get a form letter off to a dozen Philadelphia area indie book stores trying to interest them in ordering the new printing “Cheesesteak” from its distributor, but many of these same stores had ignored me when I’d asked them to handle the original on a consignment basis.
On the plus side, I received confirmation that articles I’d written about UG cartoonists would be appearing in the second and third issues of a new magazine from IDW.
And I have not been totally ignored in the café. Pancho, a tennis instructor, who moonlights as a phone-sales solicitor (or a phone solicitor, who moonlights as a tennis instructor, depending on your POV), with whom I have been acquainted for 40 years – but never bought any of my books – asked how business was going. “Not so good,” I said. “You haven’t paid your mortgage?” he said. “My mortgage is paid, thank you,” I said, “but I haven’t paid off my espresso.”
Then Lefty, a retired cab driver, with whom I have been acquainted about four weeks – and hasn’t bought any of my books either – was attracted by “Best Ride.” “$5,” I said. “Quite a discount,” he said. “Trying to build my audience,” I said. But he dislodged this hook and swept away after he began to rave about the work of the journalist Chris Hedges, at the expense of Ernest Hemingway and Hunter Thompson, and I proclaimed my preference for them both.
So many Bob Levins on the Internet; I'm the Bob Levin who writes.