No sales.
i.
A fellow with a white beard, knit cap, wire-rimmed glasses, work boots looks me over.
“Wanna buy a book?” I say.
“Just spent all my money on coffee and a roll.”
“Maybe next time.”
“I like your titles though. You do all right here?”
“If I sell one book a week, I’m doing good.”
“That’s more’n me.”
“You write?”
“No. That’s why.”
We both laugh.
ii.
Michael and Audrey stop by. They say they are on their way to an OLLI course. “You know OLLI?” Michael says.
“Float like a butterfly; sting like a bee?” I say.
“Different Ali. So what’s your best seller here?”
“I sold a ‘Cheesesteak’ last week, so I guess…”
“You think of collecting your ‘Adventures’ into a book? I know, ‘performance art,’ blah-blah, but you ought to.”
“I’m not sure I’ve got the market. Like, my cousin’s photos of her rattlesnake beans with sundried tomatoes and broccoli got seven times the ‘Like’s as my last one.”
. “It’s hard to beat photogenic rattlesnake beans. But think about it.”
“I’ll run it up the so-to-speak flag poll.
Here goes.
iii.
Actually word of one sale reached us.
The wife in the family next door, with whom we are friendly but not so’s any of us would say we are actually “friends,” e-mailed that she had read “I Will Keep You Alive.” “I couldn’t put it down. I read it in one sitting. The story is my dad’s story, my mom’s story, it’s our story, it’s a life story. The emotions that you shared relate to everyone’s life.”
We thought that was pretty nice.
So many Bob Levins on the Internet; I'm the Bob Levin who writes.