So my dad has a cousin in Israel, whose daughter knows some people, and word filtered through the mishpochah that I should send a book back up that chain.
Today comes word that my book is in the possession of Uzi Dayan – yes, son of Moshe – and is bound for the hands of the commander of the Israeli Air Force, Maj. Gen. Eliezer Shkedy.
That’s something, I suppose. I hope one of them buys a book from me.
In other writing news, a wannabe producer wants me to write a script on spec for him. I’m a wannabe writer not making any money writing for myself, so I figure at worst it’ll improve my writing and give me an impetus to write. I’ve been finding it hard to put fictional words down between school and work.
I’m not at liberty to discuss the topic of this spec publicly, but it’s the story of an American artist of sorts in the ’30s. I have a box of books on my subject to tackle before I start outlining. Wish me luck.
Bonus thoughts on the power of illuminated pumpkins:
I’m home while the wife and children go trick or treating in Pointe Claire. Usually, they all go out and I stay home and man the candy bowl. Normally, we get dozens of kids. This year, we’re still in the single digits as of this post.
Our front of our house is well decorated with cobwebs (real and fake), pumpkins, and plastic decorations – but we didn’t carve any pumpkins. I wonder if the lack of that singular symbol is keeping kids away.
