I have to laugh. Granted, my book has been out less than a month, so this isn’t surprising, but I just got a notice from Amazon that my first royalty check is in the mail. $1.45. Hey, a buck’s a buck, right? That’s a pound of coffee at the 99 cent store.
Seriously, folks, this whole business of writing isn’t nearly as easy as it sounds. I’ve ditched the first two starts to my next book and have decided to go in an entirely different direction. The year is still 1965, but I’m going to start Keno and Grace out in Santa Barbara, a place where I spent 1965 myself. I can write about the hippie culture, because I lived it. Or at least, some of it.
Mom was out driving truck with the fellow she thought she married (turned out he was already married, but that’s a different story), so I was living with my sister at the time. We had a ground-floor apartment on Modoc. I don’t think our lights had been turned on yet, so the lady from upstairs would wait until her husband left for work (he didn’t approve of us) and lower an extension cord down to us. No curtains either, so we painted the windows with the paint from a paint-by-number kit. We lived by Daddy’s mantra that “there’s always room for one more,” so we would sometimes have six or eight or ten people sleeping on the floor because they had nowhere else to go. The sixties were a wild time, and I’m looking forward to writing about it. Stay tuned, folks! The next book is coming!