This Sunday, in a cosmic convergence of such magnitude that it could
create a rip in the space-time continuum right in the center of West
Hollywood, my brother Tod, my sisters Karen Dinino, Linda
Woods and I will be on stage at the West Hollywood Book
Festival.
All four of us are published authors and, as fate would have it, we all
have new books out. We’ll be offering advice about writing, publishing,
and creating searingly hot erotic fiction (which none of us do, but it
seems livelier than talking about what we do write, which are literary
short stories, art books, and novels with 80-year-old TV actors on the
cover).
Nice parenthetical. I may have actually chuckled aloud at that. In today’s internet-savvy world, laughing out loud out a written joke has had its significance acronymed right out of it. Rest assured I meant it as a significant compliment.
I’ll probably be attending the book fair this year (for the first time). Maybe I will bring a lighter to your presentation and hold it up. Maybe I will flash my man-chest if you happen to be distributing beads. What do people do at the West Hollywood Book Fair anyway? Buy books? Cosplay as their favorite literary characters? Maybe I will go as Humbert Humbert.
Alas, I can’t make it.