If you are a writer and someone asks you to speak about your book, check the calendar first and make sure it's not Halloween. It's hard to compete with witches, goblins and kids dressed like Harry Reid and John Boehner.
Twelve un-costumed members of the audience made it to Congregation B'nai Israel last night to participate in a conversation with me about the process by which Island of the White Rose was published. We had a lively discussion, since several had already read the novel, but I felt a bit guilty for having dragged a staff member from the Avid Reader in Davis to come sell books. A bookseller could have starved to death last night.
Live and learn? I hope so.
I'm anxious to continue the research into a sequel of the novel, as well as to re-write another already completed novel, Holyman, A Story of India. But November is pretty much spoken for already, with a very unholy trial on a case that has been bouncing around the courts for the past six-plus years. At least the trial will be over by the end of the month. I suspect that years of appeals still loom, but the dramatic part will be over before Thanksgiving. Gobble, gobble.