Buy high/sell low

The business of writing is precarious. Last month I succombed to the temptation to do book signing for Shrink and Finding Jackson. A local bookstore here in Chester County was kind enough to indulge me. The owner even went to the trouble of making me a poster for promotion of the event, which I placed in 24 willing stores in the area. My wife, Joyce, also induced friends and relatives to attend the event. She did her job well. Sixteen loyal troops came out and some bought books, which embarassed me. My daughter buying a book was the worst indignity. How could I have forgotten to send her one? But that's not the worst of it.

If you are Sarah Palin and can get someone literate to write a book for you, you can sell it. She's even touring with the book but on her second 1,000,000 copy printing, I wonder why she needs to beat the bushes. But then she is probably more interested in the 2012 election than selling books at this point. But if you are a first time novelist and need to pay an exhorbitant rate to purchase your own books forget about selling, let alone making money. Dan Brown's new book goes for about $19. To make a couple of dollars on my book I would have to charge $30! Come on, only a few close relatives and friends will pay that. So I priced Shrink at the signing at $20, losing moiney on each sale. Some of my neighbors now want Books. I'll have to buy some more and likely will just give them away.

If this sounds somewhat sour grapeish I guess it is. I don't fault Sara for wanting to make a buck or a million. That's the American way. I just don't want to sse her within a thousand miles of the White House.

One positive. The book store owner would like to help me self-publish my next book, if there is one, and market if so that I might fare somewhat better than my first, and second efforts. Perhaps. Right now I will stick to blogging and other on-line publishing.

On parle francaise

I was a good French student in high school and took three years of it. We were translating short stories at the end and I was an "A" student...except for speaking. My accent was terrible. "Vous parley francais comme un vach espagnol (You speak English like a Spanish cow) my teacher remarked. When I got to college it was necessary to take a year of language or to opt out by passing an examination. There was no way I failed that exam yet I was placed in French 1. I don't know how that happened but, supidly, I didn't protest. It was six credits of aguaranteed "A" without work. Concerned about keeping up with college assignments I kept my mouth shut. That was the last time I dealt with French for about 55 years.

In 1955, my wife and I scheduled a trip to Paris. I borrowed some tapes to tune my ear but didn't do much with them. When I landed at de Gaul Airport, and started listening to people talking French, it was as if a switch had been thrown, unlocking phrases, idioms, and vocabulary I thought were long lost. Delighted with my newly rescued memories, I decided to speak only French during our stay. I asked a gendarme directions to the opera house. He answered so rapidly I understood nothing but I wasn't going to reveal that to him. I managed to upgrade our room at the Hotel du Louvre by complaining in pigeon French that it was difficult to make love in a double bed where the two matresses were alligned vertically, with the split down the middle. The two young female clerks were so amused they gave us the best room they had the next morning, including a genuine double mattress.

All this is preamble to a happening this week at the high school where I consult for mental health services. I routinely call teachers to release students from their classrooms for counseling. I always ask first if it is convenient. Most teachers cooperate readily. Some conscientious souls demur so that the student can complete an exam or finish some make-up assignment. No real problem. However, after agreeing to my request for Chistopher, a nineth grader who needed to learn social skills, she followed up with a note that I had interrupted his review for a vocabulary test, suggesting strongly that I not remove him from French class again. Now Je comprende that academics are important. Somehow, however, I think that it is more essential for Christopher learn eye contact and basic communication skills than French vocabulaire. Nevertheless, I sent her an apology note, written en francaise. True, I required a french dictionary for some words but, all-in-all it wasn't a bad effort. I also excused myself for my mauvais French, explaning that il y'a beaucoup d'ans since I studied French au lycee. I await my grade.