File under, I am my own worst publicist. The book review I wrote six weeks ago was finally posted, here:
Truthfully, I’d forgotten I’d even written it. It’s curious, how that works; I read, I re-read, I turn down pages, I underline passages, I mull over what it is I think I’m going to have to say, I obsess for a little bit, I start writing, and after many fits and starts, I figure out what I actually think. WIRoB likes their reviews short and snappy, under 950 words max. Which means I write about 2,000 words and then pare away what matters least, until I get to the nugget of what becomes my truth. And then, apparently, once I’ve clicked on Send, I put it out of my mind. Or perhaps I just hide it in the part of my memory bank reserved for non-essential items. I suspect this review got superseded by: Is It Garbage Day? If So, Clean The Catbox! That’s about the depth of my attention span right now.
So, belatedly, here you go, if you’re interested. And, to give you a chance to judge this book by its cover, here’s what it looks like, in a bookstore, cyber or otherwise, near you:
Good cover. Good book, too.