Read? Good.

So, if my books are so good, why aren't they more popular? Is it because I'm not popular? Am I the Grumpy Cat of gay publishing?

I've been wondering that recently for several reasons. The first is that I've had several friends and colleagues ask to meet up for a meal or coffee, or via phone calls and emails, to "pick my brain" about publishing. While I can imagine nothing more painful-sounding than having my brain picked, I do offer my advice, but no brain chunks.

But I'm not sure if my advice is worthy. I plow through the chores of doing it all myself, and take some small comfort when colleagues who have the advantage of prestigious publishers and agents regale me with their woes (mostly to do with a lack of control over their work), the position of being a "success" still befuddles me somewhat.

Chapter 4 (excerpt)Every Time I Think of You

Despite our ample supply of slightly dented cartons, cans and jars of preserves, cheeses and syrup, we refrained from excess consumption, mostly because of my mother’s frequently stated distaste for what she called, “Germanic cuisine.”

Mom sometimes served picture-perfect recipes from the old magazines she saved, all with a sense of humor about it. She’d even put up a few of her favorite culinary illustrations under magnets on the refrigerator. I suppose it inspired her. On special nights, hams appeared topped with pineapples and pink cherries, or roasts were adorned with amusingly trimmed potatoes. It wasn’t until I’d dined at boyhood friends’ homes that I realized such meals weren’t a joke to other people.

(Image www.sallyedelsteincollage.com)