Yesterday, I went to The Whinery in Idaho Falls, where friends of Drinking Liberally met. We gathered on the back patio under a clear sky with trees in view in the background; a blowing cool breeze kept us cool. As requested, I brought a few copies of my new children’s book, Viku and the Elephant. Crystal was the first to buy one immediately. She said, “I love to read children’s books.” She took out her check book. I told her the price. She handed me a check.
“Oh, you wrote more than the price,” I exclaimed.
“Yes, I know. That is for the author.”
I looked at her smiling face and could not but admire her support of an author.
The literary world is in New York, over 2000 miles away and certainly not in Idaho. Rarely does one know or think of an author in Idaho. It is not that there are none, and in fact, considering the density of population, Idaho has quite a few authors and many aspiring writers. But the problem is getting published.
Crystal reminded me of Brad Maxfield, an excellent poet whom I met in Idaho Falls when he taught poetry at Idaho State University. He told me of a personal incident. He sent out a few of his poems for publication in East coast journals, but got rejected. Hearing this, his friend who was at Princeton asked him to send him his poems. This friend then sent out the poems from his address for publication – they got published. You judge the significance of this incidence. I always remember the story because of its sadness and the reality of the publishing world. His first book of poetry, For All We Know, has recently been published by Backwaters Press in Omaha, NE.
So this morning, my hat is off to Crystal in appreciation of an author in Idaho.
From Blogspot.com: A Writer’s Blog
July 1, 2011