Discretionary spending

 

Thanks to a supremely generous friend, I have an extra $50 to promote my work, enough to print four volumes and send them to a book reviewer somewhere. I scanned an old list that I compiled years ago, shrugged at three newspapers that might still exist and might tolerate cis-gendered romance, which is asking a lot nowadays. Syracuse? Wichita? Tampa? It would be a lot better if I wrote grisly accounts of Delta Force heroism to kill evil tribesmen who outlawed gays humming Broadway show tunes.

 

I discarded the idea of depositing a legacy for safekeeping at the British Library (I'm not British) or at the Philadelphia Free Library (doubtful they shelve paperbacks). Silly to waste $50 on my hometown public library to honor a 12 year old kid self. Dead certain that my novels would wind up in the trash, maybe a special trip to the municipal incinerator. I come from an enclave of well behaved small town burghers, and I broke every one of their rules as a juvenile delinquent, kicked out of high school at age 15.

 

No point in sending books to Barnes & Noble or Curtis Brown.

 

Hmph. Here I am with $50 burning a hole in my pocket, and I can't think of an institution or a prominent public person who might conceivably take time to read my collected novels and stories, say something nice about Partners or Escape or privileged white rascals Chris and Peachy.

 

$50 would buy a hell of a lot of good whiskey, but I'm too old to drink, and the problem of a permanent archive of my work is as parched as a three day drunk. I need to think more creatively about publicity, maybe Australia or Finland. When I search "wolf devoon" on Google, I'm baffled that most of my titles were indexed by booksellers in Taiwan, India, Germany, Japan, Holland, and South Africa. I've sold more books in England than in America. Probably had buyer's remorse. Urgent to find a kindred spirit. Tucker Carlson? Mike Rowe? Too busy to read novels. Elon Musk? Yeah, sure, nothing else to do except launch rockets to the moon and Mars, run a global car company, and bid $44 billion to take over Twitter. Rand's fictional Central Park hotel developer Kent Lansing told Roark that the shortest distance between two points was a middleman. I need a well connected social butterfly to plug my work.

 

A female? Not ideal, although they run NY publishing and literary conferences coast to coast. It would be awkward to pitch a female agent or editor, but I've had more five-star female Amazon reviews than any other kind. Men generally snarked with 1-star exasperation, except for Erik who showered lavish praise on my convoluted plots and trick endings. Good joke on Erik. He's a better writer than I am.

 

So, who are the women I admire?

 

Heather MacDonald, a busy journalist. Camille Paglia, the lesbian pop culture critic, probably 80 years old. Maria Bartoromo, Fox Business superstar working 12 hours a day. Becky Quick at CNBC. I haven't heard much from Anne Coulter recently. I wouldn't mind being dissed or ignored by the perpetually amused Coulter. She might have time to read a few pages.

 

So be it. My 10 best stories to Anne Coulter. Or Alice Cooper.